Transit of Venus
by Hawki
Summary: The Consortium wasn't always the monolithic mining company it once was. In the 22nd century, things were different. Terraforming of worlds. A desperate situation on Earth. And a desperate plot that could throw more than one world into jeopardy.
1. Prologue: Counterstrike

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Prologue: Counterstrike**

**December 10, 2117**

**Earth, ESS _Cortez_**

Petty Officer Third Class Robert House wasn't sure how he felt.

Concerned…for what Jo was doing. Worried…for what X-Ray Squadron was about to be exposed to. Vindictive…against what the bastards at the receiving end were going to get.

"Eyes on the screen House, not your chrono."

And he felt frustration for still being on ESS _Cortez _when he should have been on his way home by now.

"X-Ray Squadron, this is Hot Wax, Operation Spearfish is a go. Codeword, Herodas."

"_Affirmed Hot Wax, X-Ray is go."_

"Tres bien."

Apparently the translation software didn't work on Rob's headset-a must for Federal European Union taskforces like this when languages were as varied as the problems the world faced. Or maybe "tres bien" didn't need translation.

_Well, bon chance then,_ Rob thought, studying the topographic map being displayed on his screen. _Buenea suerte, buona fortuna, __viel glück…probably something else…_

"Entering hotzone…"

Wishes of fortune would have to wait, the techie reflected. From here on out, X-Ray would have to rely on its own fortune.

The operations centre of the _Cortez _was cramped-seats close to consoles, seats close to each other and room had to be made for Captain Nebuly to walk between both rows of said seats and consoles. He was on edge, Rob could tell. They all were. X-Ray would likely succeed, but given the circumstances of the mission, whether they'd emerge unscathed was another matter.

"Alright…" Nebuly said. "Final clarification-you're operating under UN Resolution 4393 -you're cleared to engage in free fire in the hotzone. However, make sure you stay within Moralgian airspace."

Moralgia…latest name for this part of Africa nowadays. Not many actual states left on the continent now. Not as drought, famine and war swept the landmass, a stream of refugees trying to escape the effects of a climate-ravaged land to Europe. Least here, in what was once called Tunisia or something, they were far enough away from the oil skirmishes in the Pacific and Caspian DMZ.

"Go in hot mes frères. Remember Italy."

As much as Rob resented being kept on this ship, he had to agree with that assessment.

He also remembered Jo. She'd be in Edinburgh now…protesting to make the FEU increase its refugee intake…

The tech turned to his screen. He wouldn't sign up for another tour, he promised himself. Jo would need him (even if she never admitted it), George wouldn't stay one year old forever and would need a father…and when he'd signed up as an enlisted serviceman for the FEU Navy, he hadn't expected having to do the job UAVs were meant to do. He hadn't expected what had happened in Italy…or what was about to happen now.

"_Entering zone…no sign-…"_

"_Shit! SAMs!"_

"_Break break break!"_

Rob winced-it was so unreal, staring at the battlefield from a console screen. If the satellite above northern Africa was his videogame console, then he would have preferred going back a generation."

"_X-Ray Lead, moving in…"_

"_X-Ray Five-Five, got your flank…"_

"X-Ray Nine-Two, tighten up," Rob heard Nebuly say, studying a readout on another console. "Rebels down you, you're on your own."

"_Copy Hotwax. Tightening up…"_

Rob kept his eyes on his screen. The resolution was good. Good enough to show the gunships evade the surface-to-air missiles, RPGs and even small arms fire the rebels were letting loose-or terrorists, or freedom fighters, or the North Africian Liberation Army if one wanted to use the formal term. He winced as one of the gunships performed a strafing run, eliminating a SAM trio before another opened up its gauss cannons and shredded flesh from bone. They deserved it, he told himself. After what had happened in Italy, it was only fair. But still…it was unpleasant to watch.

"_Hotwax, this is X-Ray Lead…requesting permission to begin landing ground forces."_

"Copy," Nebuly said, now gazing at Rob's screen. He waved his fingers and highlighted one of the grids. "Take this dropzone, codename, Lima."

"_Affirmative. X-Ray out."_

There wasn't much left of the hostiles (Rob decided that was the best word to use) right now. Not on the surface at least. Underground was another story, but that wouldn't be his problem. It would be the problem of the power armoured marines rappelling out the side of dropships, the small arms fire bouncing off their armour. So far, the mission had gone off without a hitch.

Least it was until the blip marked as **X-62 **exploded in a fireball.

Rob winced as the flaming wreckage went to the ground, as blips **X-49 **and **X-99 **eliminated a red blip that hadn't even warranted a designation in response.

"_X-Forty-Nine…target eliminated."_

"_Bastards…Hotwax, you got-…"_

"S-A-R en route," one of the operators said. "For what it's worth…" she added in an undertone.

Rob sighed. He'd had enough. UAVs should be used. _Would_ have been used if not for the target in question.

The POTC continued to stare at his monitor. There wasn't much else to see. Only the gunships in the air and the dropships on the ground-it was the hostiles' anti-air capability they'd been most worried about. Relics from conflicts in the Middle-East back when there were resources worth fighting over. Underground though…

**Patching link…**

Apparently the FEUMC wanted swabbies to go through the same shit they did, because before Rob knew it, a small window had appeared at the top-right of his screen. Not much to see bar pulse rifle fire, blood and shouts, but…

"Ground teams, this is Hotwax!" Nebuly shouted. "What the hell are you-…"

"_You'll want to see this,"_ came a voice. _"Even if you _are_ Navy."_

Rob didn't. He really didn't. But he watched. Watched as the jarheads moved through the underground tunnels, honing in on the target. The "Puppetmaster," as he'd been called. Italy had suffered his strings, but the FEU had traced them back up above the stage…right to the very terminal he was working at. No doubt expecting to work his magic on a UAV counterstrike, not on aircraft that operated independently from a control hub.

The door opened slightly. A stun grenade was thrown into the room. The marines went in…

And Rob saw him. Saw his face, staring blankly at the figures surrounding him.

"_Puppetmaster found…" _the squad leader said. _"Hope you enjoyed the show swabbies."_

"I did…now get to the surface," Nebuly murmured.

"_Roger that."_

The show…it was over. Leaning back in his chair, Rob reflected on two things.

The first was that he was sick of this show.

The second was that he would never forget the monster's face.

"Tres bien, mes amies," Nebuly said. "Tres bien."

Rob ignored him. He could give all the congratulations he wanted, he was sick of this already. He wanted out. Right now, this second, out of this room. To get to the mess hall, grab a cold one and see what other shit was happening in the world right now. Perhaps, if BBC decided to run something different, news on the upcoming transit of Venus. First one in over a century, the next to come in eight years.

He'd miss this transit though. He'd miss it because of the news that would reach him tomorrow.

And upon hearing it, what he'd seen today, and what had happened in Italy, would be the least of his concerns.

* * *

_A/N_

_Believe it or not, yes, this is a _StarFront _story, but admittedly, the presence of the Consortium is really the only thing tying it together. This actually originated as a story I worked on as part of a writing course. Most, if not all of the feedback will be based on the stuff I got from it._


	2. As Venus Slowly Turns

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 1: As Venus Slowly Turns**

**December 1, 2125 **

**Venus, Habitation Unit Beta-9 (interior)**

You never saw the stars on Venus.

You didn't see them in its southern hemisphere. You didn't see them in its northern hemisphere. You didn't even see them at its poles. As the planet's clouds shrouded it from outside view, so too did they prevent others from looking out. If the planet still had oceans under these conditions, there'd be no stars to sail by. Nothing to guide sailors home. Nothing to make Venusians appreciate how small they were in the universe.

Joanna House felt small though. It was part of the job description.

**Grey shift moving out in fifteen minutes, **boomed a loudspeaker. **Substance in five, suit up in ten. That is all.**

Joanna groaned as she rolled over on her cot, as did the rest of the workers. Grey shift. The night shift, all things considered, but considering how slowly Venus rotated, day and night were moot concepts. The sky remained the same. The temperatures outside the habitation units remained the same. The bloody food remained the same. The only thing that wasn't the same was that as she got into her grey jumpsuit, it was that the dorms were unusually warm as well.

"Bloody hell…" someone mused. "Roast us in the microwave before the oven, why don't they?"

"Think they'll fix it?"

"Sooner send us back to Earth than lower themselves to that level."

It was general complaining, Jo reflected. Complaining with a specific purpose this time, but complaining nonetheless. It was complaining the enforcers tolerated because at least by getting the complaints out, it would make the convicts less likely to vent their frustrations in a more hazardous environment. Namely the surface, rather than the artificial cavern that robots had dredged decades ago in preparation for human workers.

Getting off her bed, Jo turned to the faucet mounted on the wall beside her bunk. Her ring was still there and as usual, she strung it around her neck. First thing she did when she got out of bed, last thing she did before getting back into it.

"You know, someday, you're going to lose that thing."

"You're just jealous."

"Jealous I don't have friends and loved ones back home? Yeah…jealous."

Jo smirked. If the ring routine was the first thing she did each morning, then bantering with Simon was the second.

"Someday, we'll be back," Jo declared, splashing her quota of water on her face before letting her friend take his turn. "Someday, I'll be back with my family. And on that day, when we say goodbye at whatever site we're dumped at, I'll be laughing my arse off knowing that you don't have anything."

"I've got my skills," the man grunted. "And besides, working on terraforming…gotta look good on a resume."

"Think they'll care about the indentured part?"

Simon remained silent. Maybe he didn't know.

Maybe he didn't care.

Jo cared though. She'd cared ever since she'd been arrested during a protest in light of the Federal European Union's decision to close its borders to people fleeing a climate-ravaged Africa. Had cared since she was arrested, detained and informed that due to her "sedition," she'd be serving time on a different planet under the Consortium. Had cared ever since arriving on the burning rock that astronomers had once named after the Greek goddess of love and informed that convicts didn't have communications privileges. She'd cared for eight years, since she'd been arrested in December of 2117. A few hours just before that year's transit of Venus began.

Jo wondered about the legality of it sometimes-the Consortium was a megacorporation funded by most of the world's nations, a combined effort to direct the colonization of the solar system. In that, at least, the world was united. But it had struck her as insane that a simple protest could land her on a different planet. Yet she had no-one to complain to. No communication or representation, and the clientele was in much the same starship that she was. She and Simon had arrived on the planet within a few days of eachother and she'd quickly learnt from him that it was best to keep her head down.

So she did what she was told to…and cared internally. Cared that her husband was still on Earth as was her son, even if he probably wouldn't even remember her. Cared because Simon's apathy was contagious, and she didn't want to fall into the same hovel that convicted terrorists fell into in her mindset.

**Move out, **the automated voice droned, the door of the dorms sliding open to reveal the mess hall, plastic food and a few guards that looked as bored as Jo felt tired. **Move out…move out…**

Jo did so, hiding the ring under her jumpsuit if not the chain. The guards didn't interact with prisoners much-there was no reason to riot because death was just outside, and no escape either. But unlike the prisoners, they were paid. They had communication privileges. And a diamond ring, one of the last diamonds to be extracted from Sierra Leone before its mines ran dry back in the last century, could fetch a high price for collectors. Luckily, iron wasn't so short so a necklace they didn't give two hoots about.

**Food is served, **the loudspeaker boomed. **You have five minutes.**

"I swear I'm going to come back here one day," Simon grunted. "Going to come back, and shove that bitch-…"

"Bitch? Sounds male to me."

The terrorist went to say something but stopped. His porridge had arrived. And that was enough to shut most people up as they dug into the slop with gusto.

Jo didn't care that the slop was going on her suits. All the prisoners went through one a week in accordance with their weekly sonic shower. Unhygienic, but there was only so much water available to the base, and there were few, if any pathogens to worry about anyway. Quickly reaching the bottom of the bowl and seeing her reflection however, she did care. Cared how pale she'd become. Cared about how lank her now short dark hair was, in contrast to her long-style back home. Cared about how her husband and son might react to seeing her.

It was comforting, in a way. Comforting when she imagined how George would ask her how she'd got pale on Venus, and her explaining that not much sunlight got through the clouds in the same way it did on Earth, not to mention that wearing a heavy suit didn't help matters. But disheartening because before the questions would be asked, he'd probably be hiding behind his father's leg. Scared of this mad, convicted criminal…

"Excuse me sir, can I have some more?"

"Shut up convict."

That kept in the company of other convicted criminals.

"Guards," Simon grunted. "Bad on Earth, bad here."

"And what are they like on other planets?" Jo murmured.

"Dunno. Maybe I'll blow something else up."

Jo smirked. It was dark humour, but it was better than none at all. And as the serving staff took away the bowls, their visages impassive, hiding the joy of not having to do anything until the guards' lunch break…well, people like Simon were the only source of humour around.

"You're going to need a haircut…" Jo said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"I said, you need a haircut," the activist repeated. "Unless you're abandoning the shaved head look."

The man felt his brown hair-kept short by the means of his cutlery. Metal cutlery, because unlike plastic, it lasted longer, and it wasn't as if the prisoners could use it to break out or anything.

"Maybe…" the man murmured. "But-…"

**Breakfast is over. Move out. Move out.**

Jo sighed. Convicts cursed. The guards got out their shock sticks and gestured to a door that had slid open. A door that would take them to the locker rooms where their working suits were kept and in turn, the elevator that led up to the surface.

"Come on," Simon sighed. "Hi-ho, hi-ho, back to hell we go."

Jo remained silent. And not just because his words reminded her of when she'd watched _Snow White _with George.

Hell…most people imagined it being below you. On this world, it was above.

The convict glanced back at the mess hall as she and the rest of the shift filed out before entering the corridor that separated the hall from the suit bay. That was how the habitation units worked, a series of hubs with corridors to separate them. The lack of divide between dorm and mess hall was an exception in that they were both the domain of the convicts. Apart from that, the only other place they went to was the shower block, located in the corridor opposite to the one that led to the suit bay. Jo had heard one of her number suggesting that the base had a lockdown system and its design was meant to make it easy to enforce. It was a moot point though-Jo had never seen a lockdown enforced and what was the point when you couldn't even get off the base anyway? Apart from when she'd first arrived, she'd never strayed further than the shower rack down its host corridor.

Jo had seen _this _corridor plenty of times though. Six days a week. And as usual, it came to an end when the blast door slid open, revealing a gangwalk, guards, techs and rows of platinum suits down below.

"Two lines," one of the guards grunted. "Standard procedure."

Silently, the convicts got into their lines, walking ahead to stations on the gangwalk. "Standard" was indeed the operative word, and Jo had been using the suits long enough that she no longer needed help getting into it. All it required was for her to get to the edge of the gangwalk, climb down the ladder and crawl down into her suit.

_Servos…check, _Jo thought, activating the suit's servos-a requirement for any human to move with mobility under Venus's pressure. _Radio…check. HUD…check. Utilities…check._

A tech had once taken her through this. Now it was second nature. Now all she had to do was wait for the conveyer belt to move to the lift that would take her and the convicts to the surface, a process that soon started. The suits were kept separate like that. They were similar to power armour in a sense, and Jo supposed creative convicts could use them in a manner not intended. There were indeed some spares if guards or medics needed to come to the surface, but that was a rare occasion indeed. Once on the surface, the convicts were left to their tasks.

**Prepare to ascend, **the voice droned. **Prepare to ascend.**

Jo and the rest of her team stood on the lift, watching as text came onto her HUD, informing her of today's tasks-simple terraformer maintenance plus a ground-cable that had been corroded. Standard fare. Just as standard as the temperature and pressure displays shooting upwards once the hatch above opened at the surface, along with her suit's cooling unit activating.

Jo turned to Simon. He nodded in response as the group walked onto the scorching sands.

Like the HUD, there were some things that didn't need to be said in words.


	3. Hot Coffee

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 2: Hot Coffee**

**December 1, 2125 **

**Earth, Edinburgh**

"Hey Paige? Is the coffee better yet?"

"Not more so than yesterday. Or the day before that. Or last month."

"Fine. I'll still have a coffee though."

The waitress smiled at Robert. The man smiled back. And while the father didn't see it, his son George simply rolled his eyes and returned to his Playgear.

"You know…" Robert said to his son. "You _can _order something."

George remained silent.

"Or…you could, you know, make conversation…"

George still kept silent, though his Playgear didn't. A series of beeps and bangs symbolized…well, whatever this generation of videogames symbolized.

"George, if you don't-…"

The boy shut off the device.

"Saved the game," he said. "I can talk now."

"I thought games had auto-save features."

"Turned it off. Only want to save if I complete a quest with a hundred percent completion rate."

"Uh-huh."

It was their usual fare of conversation. Short, to the point, and often centred on irrelevancies. A bit of conversation before whatever came next. And in this case, a long black with two sugars.

"Thanks," Robert said, taking the beverage. Paige smiled back and smiled at George as well-he didn't return it.

_Crap, this tastes like…crap…_Robert thought, taking a sip of the coffee.

"So how's the coffee?"

"Fine…fine…"

A lie. But he'd lied to George for eight years about something much more important, so lying about synthetic coffee meant for the masses of the state of the UK of the FEU was a walk in the breeze.

Not like the gale that was blowing outside, as per the December weather.

"You know…" George said eventually. "I was wondering…"

"Yes?"

"If you could have buried Mum…would you have?"

Robert sighed and slid the coffee to one side. "George, you-…"

"I mean, I know people aren't buried anymore," the nine year-old continued. "But if you could have…"

"Maybe…but I don't think she would have wanted it. You know your mother…well…"

George remained silent. He didn't know his mother. Had never known her outside what a one year old could have known. Which was why hiding the truth was so easy at the time. That while Rob maintained that she was dead, the truth was that he didn't know. She'd disappeared during the riots eight years ago and while was likely dead, he didn't want his son growing up with false hope.

And he had to admit, it was easier on him as well. Easier to pretend his wife was dead and live his own life as a single father. Easier for him to keep his mind focussed on all the shit that was happening on this planet rather than one that even at its closest point, was 38 million kilometres away. Easier for him to look at George, see his mother's hair and eyes, and imagine her within him…

…Or something. He'd taken him to a fantasy blockbuster last week, and the flower speech was still in his mind.

George got up soon, murmuring about a toilet break. Given how cold the café was, Robert couldn't blame him for having a weak bladder right now. Despite how much Earth had warmed up over the last century, the United Kingdom was still bloody cold at this time of year. Still, as Paige came over to take his now empty cup, the lack of warmth became a non-issue.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Fine…fine…" Robert murmured. "Coffee was fine."

"I mean George."

The father sighed. "Monthly anniversary of his mother's death…died in December eight years ago…"

The perk that all waitresses tried to wear disappeared instantly. Instead, Paige's features became awash with sympathy.

"I'm sorry…" she said softly. "I didn't know…"

"Don't be," Robert grunted. "An anniversary is just formal nostalgia."

"And what is it to George?" Paige asked. "How _formal _is it to him?"

Robert glanced up at her. He'd glanced at her quite a bit over the last few months. Indeed, it was why he was attending this _SolStar _café instead of the identical one across the street next to the McDonalds. And why she'd at least become aware of his existence, she'd never gone so far as to take George's empty seat and face her customer.

"Don't you have work to do?" Robert asked.

Paige gestured around the mostly empty café. "What work? I wait on people. If there's hardly anyone to wait on, I can make my existing customers feel better."

"Well, you're not making _me_ feel better."

"Then what about George?"

"What about him? He doesn't like you."

Robert wasn't sure why he was saying this. Right now, facing the girl before him, at least five years his junior and in her late twenties, he wasn't doing anything that would endear her to him at all. Then again, he was a lone wolf person most of the time. Worked alone in his business cubicle. Worked alone at home while George did his homework. He'd worked alone for eight years and now that he'd approached opening himself up to someone, he was self-sabotaging the proverbial airlock.

Yet Paige kept breathing. Still kept the "perk", as he called it.

"Rob…" Paige began. "I…well, let's start with the obvious. I know why you're here. I know why you keep coming to this freezer of a restaurant when you could easily afford better dining elsewhere."

"How do you know-…"

"Your suit, your demeanour, the fact that your son has a portable games console that I couldn't ever hope to buy on my current salary," the waitress continued. "But back to the topic, I know why you're here. You're here because like every other lonely man, you want company of some kind and you're willing to engage in a bit of harmless peekaboo at a girl who has to wear a short skirt in the winter."

Rob remained silent. The girl stared at him, so unlike Jo. A few freckles, blonde hair (a rarity nowadays) tied up at the back, an…openness that contrasted with Jo's reserved nature…he felt embarrassed.

"But you needn't be embarrassed," Paige said.

The embarrassment dropped slightly.

"Come on," the waitress laughed. "You think you're the first sad soul that's stated coming here? Relax, it's part of the job description. You come in, bear with the bad coffee, and I take home a cheque as a result."

And there it was. Outright honesty. In the world of business and an economy that always seemed to be on the verge of recession in this bloody world, it wasn't something that Robert was used to. And combining that fact with his finished coffee, he'd had enough. This place was cold. The outside was colder. But better to face the cold truth than be all warm and cuddly in lies.

_Then why not tell George about his mother then? _His conscience asked.

"Here's my card," Rob said, putting his visa on the dish. "I'd give you a tip if coins were still used."

"I don't want tips," Paige said. "And I actually want to see you come back, because it means I'm more likely to keep my job."

"Then stop talking to me and get to work," he snapped back.

"Fine. I will. But what about George?"

Rob stared at her as she got to her feet. He could deal with comments about himself. But his son? If Paige wanted him to keep coming here, she wasn't doing a good job of it.

"Rob, I have a brother," Paige said. "He's ten years my junior, and lost his mother…_our _mother…when he was three."

Rob remained silent, but thinking. He didn't know why she was telling him this. But the age of three…only two years older than George…

"Heatwave of 2102," Paige said. "Took our mother's life. We were able to keep cool at home…schools were out and all that…but she had to work. Work in heats of over fifty degrees Celsius. Worked to death…"

"And you're telling me this…why?" Rob asked.

"Because when I look at George, I see my brother. I see him just like I saw him when our dad came home and told us our mother had passed out from dehydration and fallen off a scaffolding to her death. I know he doesn't like me…but I don't want him to go through what my brother did."

"And what would you recommend?" Rob asked. "Are _you _a parent?"

"No. I'm not. But you are."

Rob watched her as she headed to the counter. Watched her in shock rather than idle interest. Watched her because she'd managed to put him, a 34 year old man in his place. Watched her because she'd stated what he'd suspected for a long time. George was lonely. He was lonely. And yet in spite of this, he'd barely done anything to alleviate that loneliness in a meaningful manner.

"Hey Dad."

Rob turned to face his son, now back on his seat, his bowls apparently emptied.

"Anything happen?" George asked.

"No…" Rob murmured as Paige brought the receipt back for him to sign. "Nothing happened…"

Another lie. But he was good at it.

Things had changed eight years ago. He'd quit the FEU Navy for starters-he'd planned to for a long time, but even if those plans hadn't existed, he'd have made the decision anyway. Job done in Africia, free to head home, only to learn his wife had disappeared in one of the protest movements that were sweeping the UK at the time. Things had fallen apart and Jo had simply disappeared. No-one could find her and no-one had really cared either. There were far more important things to worry about. Certainly Rob, upon becoming a single father and putting his computer skills to use in a job that didn't involve killing people, found that his own priorities shifted as well. Shifted away from memory and instead to his son.

Rob stared at George, now back on his playgear. His love of computers had apparently been inherited…in fact, everything seemed to have been. Brown hair, brown eyes, pudgy face that signalled they'd have to find time for walks soon…it was eerie how little of Jo actually resided in him.

"Crap."

"Language, George," Rob murmured, taking a sip of the coffee while his son cursed at the screen. He just couldn't keep away from it. Just so as Rob's attention was drawn to the flatscreen mounted on the wall-the sound was off, but the images and crawling text beneath them was more than enough information to tell him what BBC was covering.

**TENSIONS MOUNT IN PACIFIC…EMERGENCY SUMMIT CONVENED IN NEW YORK…STATEMENT MADE FROM CHAIRMAN…**

Same stuff, Rob told himself as he turned his attention away from a fighter jet touching down on an aircraft carrier. Pacific Crisis. Pacific Solution. Pacific Standoff. Terms thrown around to describe the faceoff between the United Republic of the Americas, the Sino-States Commonwealth and Pan-Pacific Alliance. Power blocs all disputing the ownership of the planet's last oil reserves in the seafloor of the Pacific. At this point, the only reason BBC seemed to be running stories on it was because people liked watching war. And for all the talk of experts that the situation was deteriorating, Rob was past caring.

"Crap!"

Taking another sip of his coffee, watching as George shut off his portable games console, it seemed that at least his son had his priorities straight.


	4. In Heat

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 3: In Heat**

**December 8, 2125 **

**Venus, Habitation Unit Beta-9 (exterior)**

Simon Edelman knew he'd likely die on this planet.

Not from the heat. Not from a psychotic inmate. Not even from dehydration. No…he was going to die because the humming of the terraformer just wouldn't shut up.

"You know…could be worse…" came a voice. "I mean…it's not like it's slave labour or something…"

Simon rolled his eyes. Some new kid had arrived at the start of the week, one who apparently didn't mind to being consigned to work on Earth's bastard sister of a planet. He trusted the newbie as far as he could throw him in his heavy suit but whatever his background, he'd apparently made it his mission to try and cheer the convicts up.

"I mean, think about it…we're not convicts. We're pioneers."

"Shut up kid."

Simon's visage was on the control panel before him. It was a cushy job that he rarely scored, his work simply amounting to checking both internal and external pressure and temperature. The terraformer, sucking the CO2 out of Venus's atmosphere and sequestering it underground used a lot of power. Power led to heat. And despite the tech being similar to those in the Pacific, extracting some of the last oil left on Earth from the bottom of the seafloor, there was only so much pressure it could take as well.

And so far it was holding steady.

"You got a problem?" the kid asked. He walked over, his footprints somehow being heard over the sound of the bloody hum.

"No, I haven't got a problem…" Simon murmured. "It's this bloody planet that's got a problem."

"Aw, come on…" the kid laughed. "It's not that bad…sure, we're in temperatures of over three-hundred degrees Celsius…but it was over four-hundred when work first started and-…

Simon turned to face him. Faced his polarized visor. Faced the twerp before him that had somehow become more irritating than the sound of terraforming.

"Kid, you're going to die here," Simon said. "That's a fact."

"Huh?"

"You're going to die," Simon said. "You're going to die, because people always do. Either your suit succumbs to the pressure. Or the acid rain gets to you, or your cooling unit ruptures and you're roasted inside. Or you run out of oxygen."

"I-…"

"Or in some cases, your body simply gives out and you have a heart attack inside your suit," Simon continued. "Horrible way to go, trust me. So no, the situation _is _bad. The situation's even worse than it was back home. But unlike you, I'm willing to accept that. So either do that and do your job, or piss off."

The kid fell silent. The terraformer continued to hum. Apart from that, there was nothing. Venus had an atmosphere, but wind speeds on the surface averaged about 3.6km/hr. All there was was the hum…the hum…the hum…

And the sound of footsteps as the kid headed off.

Rolling his eyes, Simon returned his gaze to the terminal before him, the terraformer's heat and pressure still optimal. Switching on his suit's HUD, he saw that his own oxygen and temperature were optimal as well, though his heart rate was slightly elevated.

"You know, you shouldn't have been so hard on him."

And then his heart-rate dropped slightly. Because talking to someone who wasn't a true criminal was always comforting.

The former terrorist looked at Jo, recognisable only due to the sound of her voice over the radio.

"I'm a hard guy," Simon murmured. He gestured to the quartet of poles she was carrying. "What are those?"

"Sensors to record wind-speed," Jo answered.

"Wind? But there's no wind down here."

"True. But scientists want to know that for certain or something. And since the last lot of sensors got eaten up by acid rain, it's my turn to replace them."

Simon remained silent. On Earth, this job would be a breeze-just walk around, plant some poles and head back. But here, it was different. The suits were heavy. Slow. Exhausting to move in. And that far out from shelter, if acid rain _did _fall, Jo would be screwed. It had happened to others before, and all Simon and his fellow convicts could do was turn off their radios so they didn't hear the screams.

Life was cheap here. Cheaper than vehicles that had to be built to withstand the conditions. Here, everyone walked around. There were terraformers all over the planet and each underground hub was located close to one.

"Well, be careful," Simon said eventually.

"Why do you care?" Jo asked. "You're a terrorist, remember?"

"So? Doesn't mean I don't have a conscience."

"Yeah? Tell that to the people you killed."

Simon raised an eyebrow. He'd been here as long as Jo had. And while he'd been put off by someone who belonged on the other side of society's wire, and she'd been put off for the same reason at first, the issue of his past actions hadn't ever driven a wedge between them. Not in years.

"I never killed people…" the man murmured.

"Yeah? Well you can tell me all about that when I get back," the woman snarled. "_If _I get back…"

"If? You've always said-…"

"Fuck off."

The conversation was at its end. All that was left was the sound of her footsteps, hum of the terraformer and the sound of Simon's heart-rate returning to a healthy level.

He shut the HUD off. He didn't need it.

Right now, as he returned to his job, Simon didn't know what he needed…or even wanted.

Jo was in a bad mood. So bad she'd even mentioned his past actions. He'd given her the bare-bones details that yes, he'd been what some would call a terrorist, and it wasn't something he wanted to discuss with her or anyone else. She'd been caught offguard by the admission, but he figured truths were better than lies, especially when they'd be working together for the next decade or so. And after seeing firsthand what lies could do…

"Ah, dammit."

Well, they didn't make you rookies that fell over into the scorching sand at least.

"Little help here?"

The convict walked over and helped the newbie up.

"Thanks. I-…"

"Don't," Simon said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't thank me, don't pour your heart out, don't tell me your life story, I don't care."

"But-…"

"I'm bored. Helping you is preferable to looking at a computer screen."

_And…you know…being a jackass is fun as well, _Simon reflected.

Walking back to the terraformer, the convict also reflected that chances were he'd end up getting the kid's life story whether he wanted to or not. Youth plus a shared language usually resulted in that. Fortunately, youth also tended to result in mistakes being made, such as not noticing suit flaws that the techs usually didn't care about, so he probably wouldn't have to endure him for long.

And as long as he wasn't on Earth, as long as he was as far away from his crimes as possible, Simon supposed he could endure pretty much anything this planet threw at him.


	5. Out in the Cold

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 4: Out in the Cold**

**December 8, 2125 **

**Earth, Calton Hill**

"See it, George?"

"Yeah…just about…"

"Just about? Make sure you get a good look kiddo, you're not going to be able to see it again for over a century."

It was cold. The wind was howling, and Robert suspected it was going to start raining soon as well. But it was worth it. Worth it because he and George were seeing something that neither of them had seen before, at least directly. Worth it because they were spending time together. Worth it because…well, he needed a break, and before George sat himself down in front of the holo-projector for the Christmas holiday cartoons, it would be good to treat him to something that couldn't be repeated so easily.

"Yeah…yeah, I got it…" George said, his sunglassed eyes facing the early afternoon sun. "Can I zoom in?"

"As far as you want. Just keep the sunglasses on."

Back in the old days, the layman had to rely on telescopes and special methods to observe the sun directly. Thanks to the Spec-specs however, not only could the father and son observe the transit of Venus directly, but safely as well, not to mention in high detail.

"Say, I didn't ask…" George said eventually. "Did you see the last transit?"

"No…" Rob murmured. "Missed it…"

"Huh…well, at least I'll be around for the next one."

"I'm sure," Rob said, ruffling his son's hair. "But just in case, try to enjoy this one."

"Huh…"

There weren't many words exchanged between the two then. The only question left was how long they were going to stay out here in the cold December weather. True, the transit wouldn't be back for over a hundred years, but Rob knew that he couldn't expect George to be satisfied by the same thing over the next five hours. At least he hoped not, because five hours was time he could ill afford. Not with the end of year quarterly statement having to be done.

_If only Jo could have seen this…_

And yet he also wished they could stay for awhile longer as well. He hadn't seen the 2117 transit broadcast because that was the day Jo had disappeared. He'd spent time with the Navy and then, upon arriving back home, time with police, friends and family…a routine piece of astronomy had completely slipped his mind.

_We planned to see it…were going to see it after the protest…_

He'd remembered later. Remembering what he'd missed. What he could see again…and how as the weeks and months wore on, he wouldn't have that same privilege with Jo…

Rob looked at George, now shivering as the wind picked up. It wouldn't be long now, he reflected. Sooner or later they'd leave, head home…maybe get something to eat…or drink…

Maybe coffee…

Rob shook the image out of his head. He didn't want to think about coffee. Not now. Paige had been right in that he had to spend more time with George. He'd enjoyed it. Had set aside time to let his son see something that despite his claims, probably wouldn't live to see in the next century, provided the world would still be around then.

"Dad? Can we go now?"

Rob snapped back into reality.

"You cold?" he asked.

George nodded. In turn, Rob knelt down and zipped up his tracksuit.

"Thanks though," George added. "It was fun…"

"You're welcome. Maybe we can do this again sometime. Stargaze…need a clear night though, not to mention the light pollution…"

"Maybe…when it's warmer."

Rob smiled faintly. "Fair enough."

Taking George's hand, they started heading down the hill. Right on cue, the rain started coming down.

"Great…" George moaned.

"Could be worse," Rob mused. "It rains acid on Venus."

"But doesn't it rain acid here as well?" George asked.

"What?"

"Heard something about it in school…acid rain problem or something…"

"In some parts of the world…but not here. We're fine."

Fine wasn't the best word to describe the FEU. An ageing population, a lack of arable land, extremes of temperature…and yet, Rob knew they were lucky. Lucky not to have acid rain for instance, because at the least, Europe had led the way in renewable resources, while nations relying on fossil fuels had moved on to dirty coal in light of the lack of cleaner sources of energy. It had a flow-on effect of course, but at least in this part of the world, Rob knew that they were well off. Perhaps more well off than any other continent. And certainly more well off than colonization efforts on Earth's moon, Venus and Mars. He was no scientist, but if what he'd heard on the BBC was correct, then George would be an old man by the time people could live on those planets in any significant number, if at all.

_Too few people on other worlds, too many on this one…not that you'd know it…_

Looking down at George, Rob wondered how long it could last. How long Europe could keep the stream of refugees outside its borders, how long it would be until the last of the world's oil was extracted and those without hydrocarbon technology (most of the world) resorted to drastic measures. How long it would be until George realized that the comforts he'd enjoyed his nine years might not be around in the next generation.

Maybe Jo was lucky, Rob mused. She didn't have to see that her efforts had failed. Didn't have to stay in a world that was looming closer to collapse each year. Didn't have to know that her husband, once ready to fight the good fight without her, was now content to ride out the storm and hope that his nation could emerge unscathed.

_And we haven't, _he thought to himself. _We're already on synthetic coffee…_

Coffee…there was that word again. There was Paige's face in his mind again. There was his loneliness again, even as George took his hand with one of his own while swinging his other arm.

Even as the global mean temperature rose, it was a cold world. And as Rob reflected, there was only so much in it left to keep him warm.

"Rob…fancy meeting you here."

Still, upon seeing Paige's face in the flesh, Rob felt slightly warmer.

"Paige?" he asked. "What you doing here?"

"Oh, you know…transit of Venus," she said. "Bit nippy though."

Rob couldn't remember the last time someone said "nippy." Probably late last century, if at all. Still, he didn't understand what George said half the time, even when he wasn't trying to imitate a pre-diluted Scottish accent. Or what he wrote for that matter.

"So George, you enjoyed the view?" Paige asked, leaning down and letting her black leather suit contrast with his blue jumper. "You would have been, what, two last time?"

"One…" George murmured. "And no…I didn't see it."

"Shame…course, you wouldn't have got a good view from here back then, but-…"

"That's great," the child murmured. He looked up at Rob. "See you at the car dad."

Rob nodded as George headed off. He'd need to talk with him in the drive back to Edinburgh. For now though, turning his attention back to Paige, it was time to run damage control.

"Sorry about George," Rob murmured. "He doesn't-…"

"Doesn't like me? Please. That's obvious."

Rob stared at her, his mouth dropping.

"It's fine though," the waitress said. "He wants his real mother. I'm an intruder in that sense."

Rob remained silent. He'd known Paige for months, and couldn't ever remember her being so direct. It made him feel uneasy, and he was glad to see that George had already reached the car. Something was strange here…the chance that he'd just run into Paige like this.

_Or maybe it's because you're close to her, _a voice told him, one that sounded too much like Jo's for his liking. _Maybe it's guilt. Or hey, maybe you have a thing for blondes now._

"Well then," Rob said, addressing his mind and the matter of Paige at the same time. "Nice seeing you Paige but I best be going."

She nodded. "Fair enough. It's my day off, so I'll be staying."

It was welcome news. And as such, Rob started making his way down to the car while Paige made her way up.

Yet as she passed, she grabbed his arm. Forced a piece of paper into his hand. Leant over by his ear.

"Meet me there," she whispered. "Ten P.M. Come alone."

"Paige, what-…"

"Read it."

Rob opened up the piece of paper, wondering what Paige was talking about, and who on Earth still used paper in this part of the world. It was an address…

"The Upturned Kilt, Country Drive, Marino Sector," he murmured. He glanced back up at her. "Paige, what's this about?"

"The truth," she murmured. "And that's all I have left to say to you right now."

And with that she let go of him and kept climbing up the hill.

Staring at the paper before glancing at George and seeing him with his playgear again, Rob reflected on three things.

Something was up.

It was cold.

And somehow, coffee didn't seem to be the answer to that problem anymore…


	6. Friendly Discourse

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 5: Friendly Discourse**

**December 8, 2125 **

**Venus, Habitation Unit Beta-9 (interior)**

"Wow Jo, you look like something the dog drew in. If…you know, dogs lived here."

Joanna didn't answer Simon. She didn't even look at him as she staggered into the mess hall. All she did was sit down in front of her co-worker, lay one hand on her sweaty head while clicking her fingers with the other. On cue, one of the staff members brought across dinner-synthetic steak, synthetic vegetables and hopefully non-synthetic bottled water. Water that, as Jo unscrewed the cap, was the only thing she cared about.

"Thirsty?"

She still didn't answer. She just drank.

"Take it I can have your dinner then?"

She still didn't answer.

"Well, if that's the case-…"

Jo chucked the empty bottle at Simon, causing him to recoil from his mission of infiltrating her plate and seizing her dinner. It wasn't that she was particularly hungry, but if she let her friend take her dinner, other people who she wasn't affiliated with might try the same thing.

"So…" the former terrorist began. "How did it go?"

"Huh?" Jo asked, feeling hydrated yet also bloated, and still removed from the here and now.

"I said, how did it go?" Simon repeated. "The whole sensors thing."

"Went fine…long…but fine…" Jo murmured, now resting her head in both hands. The water had done a number on her thirst, but her headache was another matter.

"Fine…great adjective that."

Jo didn't know why he kept talking, or why she was even listening. There was no chance of analgesic here-not for a convict, and certainly not for a complaint as minor as a headache. Her instinct was to turn in-Sundays were often off-days, at least reserved for maintenance and the like, and she could afford to sleep in. Though by virtue of that fact, many of the other workers would be staying up late.

"I hate this place…" Jo murmured.

"Don't we all."

"No…" she said, massaging her forehead. "I really…_really_…hate this place…"

"Well, come on then…" Simon said, a bit hesitantly. "You've had eight years to get used to it-…"

"You know it was the transit of Venus today?" Jo asked.

"Huh?"

"The transit of Venus," Jo said. "Point where Venus goes in front of the sun's path with Earth. Last one we'll see until the next century."

"Um…" Simon looked confused, as if unable to see where the tirade was going. Jo didn't care. Her head was pounding, her ears were ringing and her bloated feeling was being replaced with the need for more water. All her body could do now was vent her spleen and let her mouth follow.

"Transit of Venus…" Jo murmured. "Course, you can't see it from here…Earth can't be Mercury of course…and of course, you're never going to _see _Earth from this God-forsaken hellhole anyway. Not with all the clouds. Not with days longer than the planet's year."

"Well, the nights are longer too…"

"I hate it," Jo said. "I'm never going to see that transit. Maybe Rob or George will have, but me? No. I'm on this piece of shit, and if I ever get off it…"

Jo trailed off. She didn't want to cry. Waste of water, and in a room full of people that weren't exactly the cream of society's crop, she couldn't afford to. There were people like her, she knew, but even then a sure way to survive was to toughen up. Or, as she reflected, hang around people who _were _tough. Like former…

"You know, you never said what you did," Jo said suddenly.

Simon stared at her.

"You know, what you did to get here."

"I told you…terrorism…"

"Yeah, but you've never been more specific than that. What did you do, exactly? And is it terrorism in the objective sense, or terrorism as in the freedom fighter sense? Or the killing people sense?"

"I didn't _kill _people."

Jo stared at Simon. He stared back. Or _glared_, rather. There was a subtle difference in his gaze, but after spending eight years with the man, Jo considered herself well versed enough to know the difference.

"You asked me about what I did long ago…" the freedom fighter/terrorist said slowly. "And I told you to mind your own business."

"And are you telling me again now?" Jo sneered.

"Yes. I'm also telling you that if you want to go back home, you'll keep quiet."

"Oh please," Jo said. "You think any of us are going back home? You think you're really-…

**Dinner will end in ten minutes, **boomed the loudspeaker.

"Come back here and shove it to the bitch?" Jo continued, pointing up at the ceiling. "You know…last week's bravado…"

"I'll shove it to you if you're not careful…"

"Then do it," Jo sneered. "Do it. Cause I couldn't care less. Besides, all you do is blow people up, it's not as if you're man enough to-…"

Simon hit her.

Not a slap. Not a flick of the wrist. It was a full punch, hitting Jo on the nose. Blood spurt out, her vision became cloud and before she knew it, Simon had kicked her in the chest as well, sending her off her chair and onto the floor.

People were cheering…fights were rare, but they provided entertainment…

_Entertainment…_

A fist came down.

_George…_

A fist came down.

_Rob…_

A fist came down.

_Do it… _Jo thought, staring up at the figure above her and waiting for a fourth strike. _Do it…let me go…_

The fist hovered there. People were cheering. People were shouting.

_Do it…_ Jo thought. _Do it…do it…_

The figure left. Other figures had come, and had pulled him off her.

_No…let me go…_ Jo thought. _Let me…_

Other figures had come. One of them came over her, shining a light in her eye.

_Light…go into the light…_

The light stopped. Someone mentioned a…bed pay? Red way? Sled day?

_Snow…no snow here…no sleds…_

That, Jo reflected, was quite a strange line of thought.

After that, she thought of nothing.


	7. The Upturned Kilt

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 6: The Upturned Kilt**

**December 8, 2125 **

**Earth, Edinburgh**

Walking into the Upturned Kilt, the first thing Rob noticed was the noise.

He'd expected the booze, of which there was plenty of. He'd expected the waiters and waitresses, all of which wore kilts or upturned skirts depending on the plumbing they'd been issued. He'd expected seeing the type of people that an office job prevented him from seeing much. But as he escaped the cold night weather and entered what might have been another world, he hadn't expected there to be so much noise. Shouting, singing…

"**Oh we eat our haggis, go through the slip and slop. Then we go outside to brawl, to kick ya in the chops!"**

And bad singing.

Putting his hands in his tracksuit, Rob made his way through the throng of humanity. Paige had told him to meet her in the bar, but hadn't specified where exactly. If she wanted to impart information to him in private, the location made sense, but there were so many potential places to have a conversation where no-one could hear you.

_Or maybe she's gone…_

Rob glanced at his chrono-10:20. Twenty minutes late.

_Or maybe she never turned up…_Rob thought, making his way to the bar and casting his gaze around the rest of the pub. _Maybe I can go home and save-…_

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Paige.

_Damn it._

"You're late," she said.

"Had trouble getting a babysitter," Rob murmured. "Most uni students are heading home for Christmas around now."

"Whatever. You're here now."

Paige led her contact through the gauntlet of patrons to a table situated against the wall, one she'd presumably reserved given the amount of people present. It was an arrangement that could easily fit three to four people on each of its leather chairs, and the pair sat down on either side. As he did so, Rob caught sight of a flatscreen fixed to the far wall. It was silent, but the images of warships, fighters and even UAVs was enough to tell him it was the latest newsfest on the Pacific Crisis.

**TENSIONS REACH BOILING POINT IN PACFIC** the crawling text said. **URA, SSC AND PPA FLEETS MOVE INTO POSITION…EMERGENCY TALKS BREAK DOWN…**

"Um, Rob?" Paige asked.

He kept staring. The text, the split-screen of the news anchor and some new political analyst…

"Rob?" Paige asked again.

He kept staring. And in turn, the waitress glanced round at the screen for a second.

"The Pacific," she murmured. "Figures."

Rob managed to avert his gaze, even as the screen briefly cut to a trio of _Star Eagle_-class fighters flying in formation. Eye candy was all well and good, but there was only so much he could take.

"So…" Rob said. "Down to business?"

And if he wanted to watch the news, he'd be at home instead.

"Down to business," Paige agreed.

A brief silence descended over the pair. True, the bar itself roared with sound and song, but right now, all Rob could do was stare at his…associate. Simple black clothing, hair loose, an ornamentation bar on her left arm that extended halfway up to her elbow…she almost looked like one of the patrons, if not for the black jeans that were practical for the weather outside.

"Um, down to business, then?" Rob asked.

Paige just sat there.

"Or…take my order?" Rob asked, getting irritated. "What, is there some kind of code I'm meant to utter first? Because I'm not-…"

Paige tossed something that looked like a passport onto the desk. Rob picked it up and opened the front page. On one side was Paige's face. On the other was an insignia of a globe, a dagger going through it, scales of justice and what looked like Venus, the moon and Mars behind it.

There was also the word "Interpol" below said insignia.

"I'm not a waitress," Paige said. "I'm with Interpol. Abductions. And I've been working your case for the last few months now."

Rob stared at Paige. Then stared at the document. A document that could easily be faked, he reflected, the lack of paper in the world notwithstanding. This could be a joke…

At least he thought that until a hologram shot out from Paige's wristband, showing streams of data that matched up with the physical document.You couldn't fake that…not on a waitress's salary at least.

"Paige, what is this?" Rob murmured. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I brought you here because I wanted a chat in private," she said. "One that wasn't in the café or at your home because of George."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't trust me. And from what I can tell, you haven't been that open with him either."

Rob just sat there. Sat there as Paige did the same bar ordering a sherry from a passing waiter.

Rob passed on a beverage. He wasn't feeling that thirsty right now.

"I'll give the info dump," Paige said, consulting her wristband and whatever electronic display was on it. "You're Rob House. You joined the FEU Navy in 2113 as a techie, married Joanna Cruger in 2115, had your first child born in 2116. Then in 2117, you quit the Navy because your wife was killed in one of the climate riots, as they've been called. In early 2118, you took a job at VitaCom and have been stuck at the same desk for the last seven years."

"And this is relevant…how?" Rob asked, not enjoying his life story being told by a woman he barely knew up until now, and realized he knew even less over the past few minutes.

"It's not," Paige admitted. "It's simply my way of showing you how…invested, I am, in your case. How well I know you. And the 2117 date actually _is _relevant."

"How? Does the Navy want me back?"

"No," Paige said, taking her sherry. "Because Joanna isn't dead."

Rob stared. He felt like something had grabbed his lungs or something, because _something _in his chest was certainly tightening. And watching Paige sip her sherry wasn't the thing causing it.

"Bullshit…" he whispered. "You can't-…"

"You never found a body, did you?" Paige asked. "You ever think that was odd?"

"Yes, but-…"

"Or is it that you want George to keep thinking his mother's dead, rather than letting him live his life in false hope?"

"Don't bring George into this," Rob snarled.

"I won't," Paige said. "And the truth is, I wouldn't be bringing you into this if the situation didn't call for it."

"What situation?" Rob asked. "If she's alive…you said you were with abductions. Is…is Jo…?"

"Abducted?" Paige asked. "Sort of…depends how you classify abduction. But rest assured that she is alive, and is on Venus right now. Working for the Consortium."

Rob wanted to say "bullshit." Or "no way" or "you're kidding me," or some other piece of language that conveyed his disbelief. But he couldn't, because the disbelief was just too much.

Or maybe it was because in the midst of that disbelief, he could actually comprehend it…

"You know how the Consortium operates," Paige said. "They've got a free run in their extra-terrestrial operations. Nations squabble down here, give it the money and mandate it needs to get other worlds ready for us to screw up, and if they have to draft people to do their dirty work, well, the powers that be have other things to worry about."

"But…but those people are terrorists, aren't they?" Rob asked. "Criminals…"

"Most, yes," Paige said. "Least that's the idea. Still, you need intelligent people to do space colonization, and not every criminal, terrorist or general scum of humanity fits the bill. Besides, the Pro-Climate Refugee Movement losing one of its ringleaders? The FEU is hardly going to be worried about that."

Rob swore under his breath. It seemed unbelievable. Yet more belief was worming its way into his mind.

"Long story short, the Consortium can do what it wants," Paige said. "Luckily, Interpol isn't just international police nowadays, it's interplanetary as well."

"So go get her…" Rob mused. "Go get her…wait, why am I even here? Why don't you-…"

"Shut up Rob."

The father shut up. He couldn't remember Paige ever saying "shut up" to him. Not that she'd said any of this kind of stuff before, but…

_Waitress…_he thought to himself. _She still looks like a waitress…_

For how long, he didn't know. At this rate, she'd be showing a holstered pistol beneath her shirt at this rate.

"Interpol has clout," Paige said. "But the Consortium has more. "I _could _get your wife out…within the next few years."

Rob swore again.

"But I'm willing to go the extra mile," the officer continued. "Or rather, a few million."

"What?"

"It's simple," Paige said. "We go to Venus. I've got the clout, you've got the family connections. And at this point, Earth and Venus are as close as they're going to be for a year. A century, if you really want to mince the numbers down with the transit and all that. Five days' worth of travel on an ion thruster-type spacecraft."

Rob went to swear…and didn't.

Numerous questions ran through his mind. Why had it taken eight years for Jo to be found? Was she even really still alive? Why would Interpol give such advanced spacecraft to its agents? How would he cope with a minimum of ten days of space travel when he'd never been into space before or experienced anything close to zero gravity conditions? Would his presence really bring that much weight on Venus? Would Paige's?

"What about George?" Rob murmured eventually, choosing the question he knew had to be answered first. "I can't leave him for two weeks…"

"True," Paige said. "That's why I've got a co-agent ready to look after him"

"I was thinking about babysitters."

Paige laughed. "Rob, George is about to get his mother back. You think a pseudo babysitter is going to do more harm than good in the long run?"

Rob didn't answer. Paige had a point…of course, speaking of George, it also raised the prospect that he'd have to admit he'd been lying for the last eight years. And what if Paige was lying? He could accept some things…that she had a nifty wrist gadget for starters. But still, the prospect of travelling to another planet on nothing but her word that Jo was still alive?

She was also right that if Jo _was _alive, leaving George with a stand-in parent for a week or two was a small price to pay. But as she'd also said, he'd been lying to his son for the past eight years. If he was going to go on this trip, maybe it would be best to leave him in the dark as well. And VitaCom? He'd have to-…"

"You coming then?" Paige asked, getting to her feet. "Or am I going to make the trip just by myself?"

"What…I have to choose now?" Rob asked.

Paige nodded, gesturing to a waiter as she did so and dumping a plastic card in the tray. "Sooner the better. Venus is only going to get further away from now. Sooner we set off, sooner we get there, the less time is spent in space, and the lower Interpol's fuel bill. And, of course, the sooner you see your wife again."

Rob just sat there, burying his hands in his hair. It was too much, he reflected. Maybe if he'd ordered a drink, he'd have more of the liquid courage required to make such a decision. But now…

"Last chance," Paige said, getting her card back and signing the receipt. "You want to be the knight in shining armour, or you want to let some waitress save the day?"

Paige wasn't a waitress, Rob reflected. But again, she was right.

"Alright…" Rob said, getting to his feet. "I'm in."

"Good…" Paige smiled. "I thought you would be…"

Or maybe she simply knew how to press his buttons.


	8. Revelations

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 7: Revelations**

**December 11, 2125**

**Venus, Aerostat Delta-6**

"Miss House? Can you hear me?"

The words were faint, as if coming out of a tunnel. Or whether they were words from a dream, calling to her.

"Miss House? _Can you hear me_?"

Or perhaps she was going _into_ the dream.

"Eye movement...good, you're responsive."

And yet the dream was giving way to light, as was the dark.

"Miss House?" came the voice of the dream watcher. "Are you receiving me?"

"It's…Mrs…actually…"

And while the dream escaped back to its own realm, Jo found herself in reality.

She also found herself to be quite thirsty.

"Water…" she rasped to the dream watcher. "Need water…"

"Course you do," the dream watcher said. "Hold on a moment."

Jo leant back on what felt like a pillow. She felt something forced into her hand, its shape suggesting it was a cup, its cold feel suggesting it was made of metal. But it was the feeling of what was in the cup going down her throat that started bringing feeling back to the rest of her body, along with her other senses. Including sight, and a strange tingling sensation in her face.

"That's it," the dream watcher said. "Nice and easy…"

Nice and easy apparently translated into gulping down a cup of water in a few seconds followed by the rasp of someone who'd taken more than enough. It was a rasp Jo hadn't taken in ages. Not since she was on Venus. Yet gazing around the room she was in, seeing a window and clouds outside it, the convict was beginning to suspect she wasn't _on _Venus anymore.

"Where am I?" Jo asked.

"On Venus."

"Crap."

The clouds remained, in all their yellow, putrid glory. Turning her gaze away from them, Jo found herself surrounded by white sterility. And that included the doctor above her bed.

"Specifically you're on an aerostat colony, located above Habitation Unit Beta-9," he continued. "The habitation units' medical facilities are…well, rustic, and mainly designed to deal with heat and pressure-related symptoms. After the brawl you had, you were transferred up here."

"But still on Venus…" Jo mused, lying back on her pillow and running one hand through her hair and another through her ring chain. "Still trapped."

She looked up at the doctor-plain faced, middle-aged, name was "Truman" if his nametag was to be believed. He looked like he wanted to say something, but remained quiet. Some sympathy, some holier than thou assertion that if she did the crime, she had to serve the time, Jo didn't know.

"How long was I here?" Jo asked eventually. "And why does my face feel all tingly?"

"Side effects of the treatment for the bruising," Truman mused, typing in something on his data pad. "And you were here for three days approximately. It's currently mid-day by this aerostat's shift."

Jo nodded in glum comprehension. By the aerostat's shift…Venus did that to you. Rotated so slowly that everyone on the planet probably had their own idea of how to keep the time.

"Three days…" Jo mused. "How much longer until I'm back on the surface?"

The doctor glanced up from his pad. "You _want _to go back down?"

"No…" the patient murmured. "But it's going to happen, and I want to know when."

"Well, I can't say," said Truman. "In physical terms, you could head down tomorrow. In practical terms, you have to wait for the next supply run. Until then…well, we've checked your file. You may have anarchist tendencies (Jo snorted at this) but you've been deemed to be of minimal risk. Communication privileges are denied and any trips outside this room will need an escort, but broadly speaking, you have a free run of the aerostat."

"And if I _was _dangerous?" Jo asked. "What then?"

"Well then you'd be in the brig," Truman said, his visage darkening. "Like the maniac who put you up here."

"Simon?"

"Whatever. Point is, he's incarcerated right now. He wasn't injured, so he's not my problem. And looking at his file, that's probably for the best."

So the doctor had access to Simon's background, Jo reflected. Probably just as well. While the doctor struck Jo as little more than a Consortium drone, he hadn't done anything to warrant being pummelled into unconsciousness.

And as Jo gazed out the window while Truman fiddled with his data pad, she reflected that by her own estimation, she hadn't done much to deserve it either. True, she'd done what Simon had always ordered her not to do. True, she'd been cranky after her shift and missing the transit, bereft of a chance of ever seeing it with her own eyes. But had her words really been enough to push him over the edge? Or had he simply reached breaking point?

"I want to see him," Jo said suddenly.

Truman looked up from his pad. "What?"

"Simon. I want to see Simon," she said, taking off her sheets and placing her feet in the slippers that awaited her.

"I…don't think that's a good idea," Truman murmured.

"Why?" Jo asked, getting to her feet and putting on a gown that was waiting for her on the seat next to her bed. "I'm physically fine, right? He's incarcerated and my face isn't going to fall apart if I start walking."

"No, but-…"

"And you're a physical doctor not a shrink, so don't start with the horrors of seeing the one who assaulted me," Jo snapped. "Because despite its namesake, we're not hovering above the planet of love, doc, and I'm under no illusions that Simon isn't Cupid."

Truman didn't say anything. Perhaps he had nothing to say that would keep her in bed, or maybe he wasn't used to dealing with patients that hailed from the surface below.

"I'll get an escort. Wait here."

But it didn't matter anyway.

Jo sat down on the chair as the doctor headed for the door. Pouring herself another glass of water, she reflected that it might have been wise to ask for some painkillers-her head was aching, and not from the beating her former friend had inflicted on her.

_Then why are you seeing him? _her head asked. _Why bother?_

Jo didn't know. But at the least, she wanted some answers. And she didn't want to be stuck in this room for the next few days either. The walls were bare and white, and the only alternative was the sulphur clouds outside, this aerostat and the others like it using their density to keep afloat in the upper levels of the Venusian atmosphere. Great in practical terms, but horrible in aesthetic ones.

"You'll come with me."

And looking at the bored looking security guard in an equally boring uniform, it was clear the aerostat's staff didn't go much for aesthetics either.

Nodding, Jo followed the man. He led her out into a corridor, apparently willing to let her follow rather than checking she was in visual range. Some might have seen this as an opportunity, but ignoring the chill of recycled air, Jo saw it as more affirmation of her situation. She was above the surface of Venus, but there was still no escape, and the Consortium didn't need to rely on hired muscle to make sure that was the case.

"Reception area," the guard grunted. "Brig is down the adjacent corridor."

Jo glanced at the set-up. It was clear that the colony's hospital wing was but a small part, and that this aerostat was everything in one. Looking at the signs at the corridors, she saw "barracks," "recreation," "airlock," "life support," "CIC…" Basically everything needed to keep the aerostat functioning and its crew content, though the only crew she saw was a single guard at each of the entrances and a receptionist.

"Don't have many guards…" Jo murmured.

"One for each section," the grunt answered, sliding his card into a slot beside the door that led to the brig presumably. "A formality, more than anything."

Jo nodded. Formality. Impassiveness. She knew exactly what the guy meant just by talking to him.

The pair walked into the brig, the section consisting of electronic doors on one side of the wall, each for their own cell. All of them had a small opening that would allow one to peek inside.

"Cell one," the guard grunted, gesturing to the first door. "Have fun."

He began to walk off.

"Aren't you meant to guard me or something?" Jo asked.

The guard grunted…without words.

"Guess not."

All in all, she didn't mind. If Simon was on the other side of the door, then she didn't see any way in which he was getting out. And she wasn't in the mood for company anyway. Because after all that had happened, at the end of the day, Simon was the closest thing she had to a friend on this God-forsaken rock. Even if he _had _beaten her to a bloody pulp.

That was why she went up to the door and slid open the latch that would allow her to see the other side. And why her eyes widened in surprise due to what she saw.

It wasn't the cell that caught her off-guard-drab, with a simple bed and relatively pristine loo (presumably it hadn't been used much). Rather, it was the inmate. Simon. Simon doing push-ups in the room's centre, his head shaved and his orange prison suit on one side.

"Jo?"

He looked up from his calisthenics.

"Oh no, keep going by all means," Jo murmured. "Been ages since I've seen a man without a shirt on."

Her...acquaintance remained silent, though he got to his feet and put on his orange clothing without hesitation. When it came to approaching the door though, he was far more reluctant.

"So they shaved your hair for you," Jo mused as Simon neared. "Guess that's one benefit of being a prisoner."

"We're all prisoners," Simon mused. "Only up here, we've got slightly better prisons."

"True. I've got a whole hospital ward to myself."

An uneasy silence passed between the two of them. It was odd, Jo mused, meeting the one who assaulted you and not feeling any real resentment. Maybe it was because all of her resentment was directed towards her situation. Or was it curiosity?

"How long you up here for?" Simon asked eventually.

"A few days, give or take. You?"

Simon shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care. Doesn't matter anyway. If they put me back on Venus, we won't be in the same habitation unit."

Jo remained silent, though her surprise apparently registered on her visage, considering that the prisoner kept talking.

"Think about it. I beat you up in the mess hall. I can't go back to Beta-Nine lest the inmates think they can do the same and get away with it."

"Yeah…about the beating me up thing," Jo said. "Kind of still fuming about that."

Simon shrugged and turned around, walking towards the room's centre and flexing his neck.

"You want me to apologise?"

"Don't mind."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I stuffed up, reached breaking point, did something that the psychs are probably going to apply a label to. But hey, you were pissed off as well. After eight fucking years, I can sympathise."

Simon turned around to face her. Or rather, the door-he seemed to have trouble meeting her gaze.

"But unlike me, you don't deserve to be here. Maybe that's why I like you Jo-you're the only person on this charred dustbowl that isn't some diluted reflection of myself."

The silence again came back. Absolute silence. It was quite eerie, Jo thought. Maybe the brig was isolated like that, or the aerostat didn't need to exert its own thrust to stay airborne. It was the type of silence that made her want to leave.

_Then why don't you?_

Her headache was flaring up again. Why didn't she indeed? Simon had apologised, in his own manner. He'd made it clear that he didn't want to talk about his past. And yet, assuming he was telling the truth about being shipped to different habitation units…this might be her last chance to find out.

"What'd you do Simon?" Jo asked suddenly.

His gaze moved from the door to hers. "What?"

"I said, what did you do?" Jo repeated. "Your past. Your terrorism, or whatever you might have called it at the time."

The gaze became a glare. "I told you, I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, that's tough," Jo said. "Because I'm here. On the other side of this door. Free from the _maniac _as my doctor called you."

"Do I _look _like a maniac?" Simon snarled.

"Right now, no," Jo admitted. "But my face is still tingly, buddy."

Simon remained silent. The glare reverted to a gaze. The gaze reverted to a distant stare.

"Come on…" Jo said softly. "Sooner or later, I'll find out. I think…that after dealing with the same crap for the last eight years…together…I at least owe you the chance to give your side of the story."

"You'll get the truth in two years," Simon grunted. "Your husband and son are back home, they'll-…"

"So? My son won't recognise me. My husband probably thinks I'm dead or missing. You say I'm going to find out the truth? The truth is that I'm screwed up in the head."

"Jo…"

"I'm screwed up," Jo said, her head pounding away, her noise running, and…Christ, actual tears. "I'm screwed up. I'm here, talking to you. Of all people! A criminal, someone who knocked me unconscious! I'm…I'm…"

Something snapped. Letting out a scream of frustration, Jo ripped off her ring chain and through it through the hole.

"Take it!" she yelled. "I may as well give it to you now! I…"

She couldn't take it anymore. She leant against the door, resting her head against the cool metal in some desperate effort to take away from the pain.

_Losing it…losing it…_

Jo stood there, leaning against the door, tears running down her face. She'd had enough. She'd held out for eight years, but in the end, she'd cracked. The transit of Venus had come and gone. George would be nine years old now. Rob had probably remarried. Her only real friend was a "maniac." Was there a condition that described victims becoming close to their victimizers?

"This is yours."

Jo kept leaning against the door, even as Simon put her ring back in her hands.

"You know, maybe you should actually wear the thing."

"Can't let people see it…" Jo mused. "Besides…cuts into my suit gloves too much."

"Or maybe you're afraid of putting it on."

Jo glared at Simon. She knew she was screwed up. But he had no business-…

"So I'll tell you. If it'll do your mind some good to get the truth."

Jo glanced up. Simon was now facing sideways, leaning against the door in such a manner. He was willing to meet her gaze…but only slightly.

"The Puppetmaster…" Simon said. "That's what they used to call me."

"_They_?"

The terrorist ignored her. "Out of uni…graduated early. Computer whiz kid. Wanted to take on the world. And what did I do? I joined the NALA?"

NALA…it sounded vaguely familiar to Jo.

"North African Liberation Army," Simon continued. "Freedom fighters, terrorists…group trying to establish control over the north-west of the continent as the rest of it collapsed. Not too bad as some groups of the time went, all things considered. Certainly their mandate was reasonable. Wanted the FEU to take in more refugees fleeing everything from famine to civil war."

Jo remained silent. She knew what Simon was talking about. She'd dealt with the same issue, helping organize rallies. She could tell by her friend's (he was starting to become a friend again in her eyes by now) voice that he'd had similar ideals. But NALA? It was on the tip of her mind, like something that she should know. Yet it kept slipping away from her…

"So I joined them," Simon said. "Not to fight, but to do the things that they couldn't. Hacking, tracing…I could do it all. I wanted to help. Even if they had no chance of forcing their agenda on the FEU by force of arms." He snorted. "Strange, isn't it? A freedom fighter group actually wanting people to be able to leave their country?

Jo still remained silent. NALA…something about Italy…it had happened round about the same time she was kidnapped.

"Still, the FEU had an Achilles heel," Simon said. "UAVs?"

"U-A-what's?" Jo asked.

"Unmanned aerial vehicles. Standard tool for warfare. Every one of the power blocs had their own force. And the FEU Navy ships in the Pacific had a sizeable component of them also. Wasn't long before I was able to hack them. Or rather, hack into the mainframes controlling them." He smiled sadly. "Kind of a highpoint really. I'd done what everyone had thought was impossible. I'd taken control of some of the most advanced autonomous robotic technology on the planet. All in the name of freedom. Of giving the NALA a deterrent. A bargaining chip. Let the refugees in, let the FEU have its drones back."

Simon chuckled.

"Course, that didn't happen. Deterrents weren't good enough. No. There had to be a demonstration. And that's when Italy came in."

"Oh hell no…" Jo whispered, images from eight years in the past rushing through her head. "That…that…"

"Italy," Simon said. "Mediterranean nation, easiest target. Hundreds of UAVs, all turned on civilian centres. I'd given my pals control, they didn't need me anymore." He clenched his fist. "That's when I'd reached my own breaking point Jo. When the NALA decided to murder around three-thousand innocent people…and called it justice."

Jo stepped back from the man in front of her. She remembered it. All of it. Hundreds of UAVs descending on Italy. The point of call for most refugees from Africa, now in the firing zone. Death, destruction…The drones had been taken down my conventional craft eventually, but the damage and death inflicted before that…

"It ended soon afterwards," Simon said. "I let the FEU know where we were. I let my _friends _die for the cause. I didn't even resist when the marines invaded the underground tunnels and pulled me to the surface. Heck, I didn't even resist when they handed me over to the Consortium."

"We must have been captured at around the same time…" Jo mused.

Simon nodded, his eyes glistening. "I didn't want that to happen, Jo. I got what I deserved. The Consortium wanted workers. The FEU didn't want a dangerous madman in its own territory. They wanted me far away from any computers, and if the Consortium needed me to do my tech stuff, then if I went rogue, there's only so much damage I can do in this shithole." He sighed…or maybe he was covering up a sob. Either way, he turned to face her.

"I told you that I didn't kill people Jo. And I didn't…not directly. But on December Sixth, 2117, over three-thousand people died. And I might as well have pulled the trigger anyway."

Sighing, Simon leant against the door, sticking his fingers through the opening.

"You wanted the truth?" the terrorist asked. "You've got it. It's out. In the open."

Jo stood there, wondering what she could do. What she _should _do, if anything. Her pounding head didn't make things any easier.

"You think you're screwed up?" Simon asked suddenly. "Well, you're not. You're a good person. Perhaps the only good person I've known for over eight years. Maybe that's why I got along with you."

Jo knew what she should do now. Leaning up to the door, she took her friend's fingers in her own.

"Maybe that's why I liked you too," Jo whispered.

"Why?"

"The same reason. Because you're not screwed up Simon. And no matter what you may have done, you're not a bad person either."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"No. A bad person wouldn't feel regret. A bad person wouldn't think they were a bad person."

"Good, bad…" Simon mused. "You think the world's in black and white?"

"Course not." She slightly tightened her grip. "Venus, Earth…it's shades of grey. And for what it's worth…I don't think your shade is as dark as you think it is."

Looking at her friend's gaze, the tears streaming down his face, Jo could tell he didn't believe her.

But as long as he knew that she forgave him, she could live with that for now.


	9. We're All Astronauts Now

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 8: We're All Astronauts Now**

**December 13, 2125**

**Venus, Aerostat Delta-6 (surrounding airspace)**

Rob was glad when the starship entered Venus's atmosphere.

Not just because he was within a few hours at most of seeing Jo. No. It was due to the fact that he'd spent the last five days in a setting where the gravity was somewhere between zero and an absurdly low figure with more zeroes after its decimal point than there were stars in the universe. It was due to sleeping in zero gravity. Eating in zero gravity. Using the toilet in zero gravity. The ability to make a trip between planets in days had been made possible through 22nd century technology and yet even now, taking a dump was a nightmare.

Rob grimaced, enjoying sitting on the ship's toilet that was reserved for standard gravity usage. There was probably some metaphor in his previous reflection.

Either way, he was glad to be within Venus's atmosphere and also glad to be able to use the loo in a conventional manner. The space trip had been unpleasant, and not only because of all the inconveniences of doing anything and everything. Paige had been willing to talk to him, but with her true colours being revealed, it was clear that she was a down to earth person at heart. She had a job to do, would do it, would endure a week of more zero-g travel to get back to the third rock orbiting the sun, and would accept another assignment. And there was also the four men she'd brought with her, none of whom had been interested in making conversation. It had struck Rob as a bit excessive, but apparently a full team of agents would give more face behind the muscle of ensuring Jo's transfer went smoothly.

And at least the starship was large enough so that everyone could keep to themselves to an extent. Everything from a VR set to a magnetic chessboard had been provided. And when not thinking about his wife and son, Rob had managed to keep himself busy.

Silently, the man got off the loo, flushed it and watched the water go to be recycled. It was an unpleasant thought. But far more so than watching it float mixed with his inner waste. Washing his hands, he opened the door.

"Shut the bloody door!"

Stepped through the opening and closed it.

"Bloody hell Rob, you trying to poison us or something?"

Rob looked at Paige. It was clear that his defecation produced more of an odour than he thought. Under normal circumstances, he'd have some slightly witty remark. But these weren't normal circumstances. And even in the scope of these circumstances, what he was seeing was most abnormal even for them.

"We've been given clearance," the pilot grunted. Marvin, or Martin, Rob reflected. "ETA, four minutes."

"They let us through okay?" Paige asked.

"They're pissed. But they want to yell at you in person."

"Fine. Let them."

Paige turned away from Marvin/Martin and faced her passenger.

"Tough flight eh? Well, don't worry Robbie. It'll be worth it."

"I'm sure…"

"Something wrong?"

Rob remained silent.

It was strange enough that Paige had brought fellow agents. More weight, more oxygen, more everything, especially since the return trip would have six people. But what took the cake was that she and her comrades were all wearing body armour. Ballistic vests that Rob recognised as having nano-fibres, allowing the armour to shift its density to react to gunshots. Hardly power armour, but excessive by the standards of law enforcement. Even the international kind.

"Um, Rob?" Paige asked, smiling faintly. "I'm touched that my chest still has your attention, but we're here for your wife, remember?"

Rob looked up, not embarrassed. The thought had never entered his mind.

"Isn't this excessive?" he asked.

"What?"

"This." He gestured around the ship. "Five officers. Body armour. Pistols."

Paige tapped the logo on her vest. "We're professionals Rob. We have to look it."

"I look professional every time I turn up for work. Doesn't mean I have to wear body armour."

"True," Paige said. "And I didn't have to wear it as a waitress. But this is the Consortium we're dealing with Rob. Scumbags who 'enlisted' your wife under the most flimsy of circumstances. All this is simply us reminding them that we mean business."

Rob opened his mouth…then closed it. He wanted to say more. Ask more. But he was here for Jo. And while he was reluctant to call Paige an outright friend, she'd still taken the time to cut through the red tape and fly him a few million miles to get his loved one back. And unlike the rest of the crew, she'd remained friendly.

And yet she'd changed also, or rather shown her true colours. Maybe it was the armour, maybe it was because her hair was tied close to her head. But everything about her seemed different in a sense. Apart from her bracelet, there was no trace of the waitress in her. She turned away, looking through the cockpit window, staring at the aerostat in the distance. She was different.

_At least I've got Jo back, _Rob reflected. _Whatever Paige may do, it no longer matters._

At the least, once he got back to Earth, he could find some better coffee.

Silence descended on the craft. Broken slightly only by the hum of its engines (said hum fading as their thrust came to nothing) and the clank of the ship making contact with the aerostat's airlock. It was silence that lasted only a few minutes, but it was still silence that lasted too long for Rob's liking.

"We've docked," Marvin/Martin said.

Silence that the pilot didn't break enough.

"Good," Paige murmured. "Let's move out."

Silence that Paige broke slightly more, but still not enough. Not even gaining entry to the airlock was enough.

**Please stand still, **came an automated voice. **Decontamination will begin in ten seconds.**

Rob did stand still. In silence. In the light of the decontamination beam. Maybe it was because he was so close to Jo, her being on the surface of the planet notwithstanding. He just wanted sentences that extended past a few words.

**Decontamination complete. Welcome to Venus.**

And weren't uttered by bloody computers.

The sextet walked forward as the door on the other side of the airlock opened, revealing a long corridor that led to another closed door. They walked quickly. Briskly. For all his eagerness to see Jo, Rob found himself making an effort to keep up.

"Hey Paige, slow down eh?"

She ignored him.

Raising an eyebrow, Rob nonetheless remained silent. He remained silent even as the next door slid open, revealing a reception area. A hub of some sorts he was guessing, considering the number of labelled corridors and the guards at each of them, all armed with a pulse rifle.

_Nice welcome._

The receptionist looked up at the group. "Gentlemen."

"Ma'am, actually," Paige said, walking forward while the other agents remained in place. Rob walked forward as well, standing slightly behind Paige. He figured he should be at the desk as well, even if this was her show.

"You must understand, this is not the sort of protocol the Consortium welcomes," the receptionist began, meeting Paige's gaze with one as icy as the dark side of Mercury. "We do not appreciate visitors who only give us immediate warning of their arrival."

"Yeah, well, what can you do?" Paige asked airily. "I so hate time delay between communications."

"It's only four minutes between Venus and Earth."

"Still too long. I'm a busy woman. And since I'm guessing you are too, why don't we get down to it."

"Fine," the receptionist sighed. "Your pilot mentioned that you were here for a prisoner transfer. I'll need to have this cleared up with numerous sources, but we can at least start now by telling me which one."

_This is it…_Rob told himself, the notion of just hearing Jo's name on this aerostat enough to make him feel like he was in zero-g. _This is it, this is-…_

"Simon Edelman."

_What?_

Rob stared at Paige. So did the receptionist.

"Simon Edelman?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes, Simon Edelman," Paige repeated. "I understand that he's on this colony."

"Um, excuse me," Rob butted in. "But…I think there's been a mistake. You see-…"

"That's enough Rob," Paige snapped before turning back to the receptionist. "Simon Edelman. Is he on this aerostat, or not?"

"But Paige-…"

"I don't-…"

"_Is he, or isn't he?"_

"Well, yes," the receptionist said slowly.

"He is?" Paige repeated.

"Yes…yes he is…"

"Good."

That was when Rob asked himself what was going on.

He asked himself that again when Paige shot the woman in front of her.

"Jesus!"

Rob dived to the ground as shouts echoed from the guards. They were shots that turned to screams as the other agents un-holstered their weapons, each letting out a shot that took out a guard. In a second, only one was left. He fired off a few shots, hitting one of the agents, but the vest took the rounds without effort. In response, four bullets tore through him.

Rob looked up in Paige in confusion. In terror. She didn't look back. Instead she was looking at a hologram of the station, displayed from her wrist band.

"I'll track you from here," she said to the agents, the four of them taking eyepieces out of their pockets and attaching them before moving to take the guards' pulse rifles. "Take out the personnel, though spare a few for the demonstration. Make sure no-one's left standing in CIC."

Nodding, the agents moved out, each going down a separate hallway.

"And make sure you leave Mrs House alive."

So…Jo was here. That was a relief. Sort of.

Because as screams and gunfire echoed down the corridors, "relief" was the last word on Rob's mind.

The man looked up at Paige, casually shoving the receptionist's body off the chair. Just as casually, the agent sat in it.

"Nice chair," Paige commented. "Maybe I'll take it with me."

Slowly, Rob got to his feet. He looked at Paige. And with the icy gaze of a murderer, she stared back at him.

"Paige…" he whispered. "What is this? What are you doing?"

"My job," she grunted. "And before you ask, Rob, you're going to help me do it."

Somehow, Rob didn't want to ask any more questions.


	10. Of Pride and the Pacific

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 9: Of Pride and the Pacific**

**December 13, 2125**

**Venus, Aerostat Delta-6**

"Wards secure."

"Brig's secure."

"Recreation's secure."

"Barracks cleared out."

"Good. Meet me in CIC."

Signing off her wrist radio, Paige let out a sigh. Her comrades had done their job well. Bodies, minimal blood to slide on and as far as she could tell, there hadn't been any damage done to the consoles present. Not that she'd need to operate many of them, but…well, better safe than sorry.

"This will do…" the agent murmured, walking around the main set of consoles. "This will do nicely."

"I'm _so _happy for you."

Paige grimaced, turning around to face Rob. Standing in the room, his hands handcuffed, petty jabs was all he could throw at her. No sticks, no stones, just words. Still, words could hurt. Words were a sign of defiance that she'd rather not have. And since she had some time until her fellow operatives met her, Paige decided that it would be a good idea to address that issue.

"You could lighten up you know," Paige murmured. "I mean, you're still alive."

"Others aren't. I'm going to join them eventually anyway."

That was true, though Paige didn't want to emphasize that. Not yet at least. It was a shame, but her team's transport ship could only carry so many people, and they'd only come for one person. It was all her superiors had provided her with, and there'd be no point in taking Rob alive anyway.

"Look on the bright side…" Paige began. "You're on Venus. How many people can lay claim to that, eh?"

"You trying to cheer me up?" Rob asked.

"Um, yes?"

"Well, you're failing."

Paige sighed. "You know Rob, you could lighten up a bit."

"Why?"

"Because you're right. You _are _going to join the poor sods who got nine millimetre rounds popped through them. Only difference is, you get to be alive longer than them."

"I'm thrilled."

Paige studied the man before her. He looked…plain. Plain faced, plain build…but he was hiding his fear. He was going to die. He was naturally afraid. Anyone would be. Still, it was clear he wasn't going to be of any fun so with that being said, the operative turned to the console behind her.

"Why Paige?"

And turned back to face Rob.

"Why do this?" he asked. "This…this…is this terrorism? Activism?"

"You've got bigger things to worry about than my motives."

"Do I? I'm screwed. Anyone still alive on this aerostat is just as screwed, even if they're still alive." He stepped forward, his eyes not only showing fear, but also…longing? Desperation? "Just tell me why Paige. I'm a dead man. I'm not going to come back as a ghost and start blurting out secrets."

The operative studied him. He seemed sincere…and even if he wasn't, there was nothing he could do anyway. And while her sympathy for those who worked for the Consortium was limited, Paige had nothing against the man personally. Certainly she'd encountered worse people in her life, even when serving coffee. And since she'd have to explain what they needed him for anyway…

"Alright," Paige said. "I'll spill the beans."

She walked forward, taking a key out of her belt. Rob looked at her in surprise as she undid the handcuffs.

"Um-…"

"Don't overanalyse it Rob. You're a dead man. You can't escape. I can at least save your wrists in the meantime."

"I'm flattered. It's good to know that Interpol cares about its prisoners so much."

"Interpol?" Paige laughed. "Please Rob, you think that I'm going to keep to my cover story right now? No. You can curse the PPA. You at least have a right to know who's responsible for screwing you over."

_That _got a reaction from the man. Paige watched as Rob's gaze met hers, said gaze showing curiosity among the usual spectrum of emotions she'd gotten used to over the last few minutes.

"PPA?" the hostage asked. "As in…"

"The Pan-Pacific Alliance? Yes. I work for them. All my team does."

Rob didn't say anything. He just stood there. Casually, Paige walked to the other side of the consoles, sitting down and resting her legs on them. She was in command. In control. And since Rob had opened up this can of worms, she had a desire to get them all out.

"Tell me…" Paige began. "Do you watch the news?"

Rob stared at her.

"The news," the operative repeated. "Specifically what's going down in the Pacific."

"Um…yeah," Rob said uncertainly. "Oil dispute. URA, SSC and PPA."

"That's true. What you don't know is that the 'dispute' is going to become a war. Even if no-one's admitting it. And if it comes to war, the PPA is at a disadvantage."

Rob remained silent.

"It's to be expected of course," Paige continued. "The twentieth century was of the United States, and they're part of the URA. The twenty-first century was of the Republic of China, and they're with the SSC. The twenty-second century however…well, let's face it. There isn't enough left on Earth for another continent to have its boon. The PPA is outclassed both militarily and economically. If it comes to war…and it _will_…we're set to lose."

"I'm…sorry," Rob murmured, not sounding sorry at all. "But what does this have to do with me or Venus? Why come here?"

Paige smirked. "Because of the Puppetmaster."

Rob just stared. Did he remember the name? Or was he taken aback by the term? Paige didn't know. But she continued anyway.

"2117," she began. "You should know the year well, Rob. You lose your wife to the Consortium. Italy loses a few thousand people to hijacked UAVs." She smirked. "Last transit of Venus."

Rob kept staring.

"Of course, it was only the UAV thing we cared about at the time. We knew that there'd be disputes over the Pacific even then. We knew that if it came to such disputes, the SSC and URA outclassed us. But Italy…that was a game changer. One man hijacked an entire fleet of UAVs and brought a country to its knees. Fantastic."

"It was horrible," Rob murmured.

"Indeed," Paige admitted. "Those people didn't deserve to die. We've got no quarrel with the FEU after all. But the possibilities. What if we could replicate it? What if we could turn the UAV fleets of the SSC and URA against them? It would equalize the balance of power in the opening shots if not grant us that balance. And all we needed to do was find the man responsible. Find him, extract him and get him to work for us."

"The Puppetmaster…" Rob murmured. He met her gaze. "You want him. A terrorist. A monster."

"Rob, by some definitions, I'm a terrorist. So are you. How many people in Africa are cursing the FEU Navy for taking out their freedom fighters? Freedom fighters that you helped take out I might add."

"That was-…"

"Spare me," Paige murmured. "I'm not in the mood for that kind of debate now. It's been going on for more than a century and I've heard every thought from every kind of person on it."

That shut him up. Which was good. This was _her _story she was telling.

"So we wanted the Puppetmaster," Paige said. "We wanted him…but couldn't find him. Couldn't find him for seven years. All the while, the prospect of war loomed. All the while, it became clear that unless we found a game changer, we would lose. It took us seven years to realize that he wasn't on Earth. The FEU wasn't holding him. They'd given him to the Consortium. Sent him to Venus. No trial, no publicity, no pretensions. Send him away, let him work for the Consortium and if he dies in the work, no biggie."

"And that's why you're here…" Rob said softly. "To extract him. The guy you mentioned…"

"Simon Edelman?" Paige asked. "Yes. That's his real name."

"I'm thrilled."

"So you should be Rob. Because after that, everything clicked. We knew where he was. We could send our moles in. We were able to find which habitation unit he was stationed at. And that…is where we found in the records, that a certain Joanna House was there as well."

_That _got a reaction from Rob. His gaze hardened. His hands tightened. He looked ready to kill…sort of.

"So you _do _care," Paige murmured. "That's nice."

"What's nice about any of this?" Rob whispered.

"What was _nice_, is that having Jo on the surface made getting a patsy easier. We needed a patsy Rob. After all, suppose we extracted Edelman. What then? Chances were it would be traced back to the PPA. And if word of our involvement got out, our enemies would be more than willing to take us out together."

"But…why me?" Rob asked. "Why Jo?"

"It didn't have to be either of you. But…well…"

Paige sighed. This was cruel. Rob had a right to know she supposed, but still…

_But nothing. I started this. I might as well finish it._

"Things changed," the operative continued. "Edelman and Jo got into a fight and were both transferred to this station. We had to leave then and there Rob. They wouldn't stay up here for long, and with the transit of Venus having just occurred, the planet was only going to get further away from Earth. As such, we decided you were our best bet. I'd tell you about Jo, I'd get you to come, we'd arrive on the aerostat and extract Edelman."

"But why me? Why drag me _here_?"

"Because you have means and motive," Paige sent simply. "You're going to be our terrorist. Your wife was here. You have the motive. You have experience with high-tech computers. You have the means. You have a bunch of 'terrorists' backing you up. You're going to broadcast to the Consortium that their aerostat went slamming into Venus because you want vengeance for what they've done. And in the meantime, we're going to head back to Earth with Edelman. He won't be missed. There'll be no way to identify the bodies of the deceased on Venus. And we can get him back to work."

Rob stared at her. Just stared. He seemed quite good at doing that. He-…"

"**You bitch!"**

…charged her.

Paige swung off her seat, dodging his blow. She blocked his second. She uppercutted his nose with a blow of her own, sending him sprawling to the floor.

"You're rusty," Paige murmured. "Or does the navy leave its fisticuffs to the marines?"

"Why?" Rob asked.

"Why what?"

"Why…should I help you?" the former seaman asked, looking up at the operative groggily. "What makes you think I'll play along?"

"You'll play along because of your son."

Rob went to say something…but stopped.

"Oh yes," Paige said, taking a data chip out of a satchel in her belt. "You think the babysitter I hired was some college student with the need for a few euros?"

"You…you…"

"You'll help us," Paige said. "You'll help us, or I'll feed this chip into this station's transceiver, beaming it to Great Britain. I beam it, and five to six minutes later, George will be dead."

"You…you can't…"

"I can. But I won't. Not if you cooperate. There's no need for a child to die, and I don't want a child's blood on my hands. So you'll cooperate."

Rob went to say something but again, fell short. Maybe he had nothing to say. Or maybe the sound of the opening CIC door got his attention.

"About time."

Paige watched as her fellow operatives walked in, each bringing in a hostage of their choice. A tech from life support, a barman from the recreation area and a nurse from the wards. Oh, and Joanna House and Simon Edelman.

"Rob!"

Marvin let go of the woman as she went down to her husband, hugging him. He barely reacted. Had the blow to the nose been that hard? Or was he just taken aback?

"George…" Jo whispered. "He…he…they said…"

Paige glanced at Marvin. "You briefed her?"

"Yes. She needed…convincing."

"Good." Paige turned to face Edelman.

"And you?" Paige asked. "Have they briefed you?"

The man nodded. "Happy to help."

Rob glanced up. Jo glanced up. And Paige just stared.

_Huh…that was easy._

She hadn't expected this. The Consortium hadn't worried about its workers' mental faculties that much, but had still kept tabs when it suited them. And by all accounts, Edelman was a model worker. Quiet, didn't talk about his past much and by some strange twist of fate, had struck up a bit of a rapport with Mrs House. Here however…

"You…" Rob growled, turning away from his wife and staring at Edelman. "I know you."

"Do you?"

"I watched," Rob spat. "Watched you be taken away eight years ago. It's because of you I didn't get home sooner. It's because of you my wife was taken to this hellhole."

"Holes…" Edelman smirked. "Jo knows all about them. See where she keeps her ring nowadays?"

Jo stared at Edelman, as if unable to believe what she was saying. Rob glanced at Jo, seeing that a ring was attached to a chain strung round her neck. He glanced back at Edelman. And threw a punch at him.

"Rob!"

Paige watched as Rob ignored his wife's exclamation, descending into a brawl with Edelman. It was short, brief and Edelman had the advantage. Even if he did put his mouth near Rob's ear for a few seconds. Strange fighting style. Either way, she watched as Debed, one of her operatives, separated the two.

"I'll kill you!" Rob yelled at Edelman. "I'll fucking kill you!"

"No, you won't," Paige said. "You'll do your job." She turned to face Edelman. "As you'll do yours."

"Disable the aerostat so it crashes into Venus, eliminating the habitation unit so I can't be cross referenced from the deaths of those stationed there? I'm game."

"Simon, you…"

Paige glanced at Joanna, her gaze registering pure unbelief. Poor sod. Having her faith shattered on the same day she was going to die.

"Take Mrs House to the brig," Paige said to Tobias. "Rest of you…well, on with the show."

Kaloyan nodded and headed off. Off to the ship to get the material they'd need for the demonstration. A camera, some hockey masks and a script for Rob.

"This…is bullshit."

Rob wasn't reading from the script here.

"Is it true?" the man asked, looking up at Paige. "Any of it? That you're going to use this…madman to crash the aerostat?"

"Yes. Of course, you'll have done it as far as anyone outside this room knows, but yes, we'll use him. Cheaper than explosives and fits your M.O."

"And…what you told me," Rob continued. "Your brother. Dying in a heatwave."

Paige knelt down to face her hostage.

"These operatives…" she said slowly, "are my brothers. That's all you need to know."

Rob spat at her.


	11. Marriage Counselling

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 10: Marriage Counselling**

**December 13, 2125**

**Venus, Aerostat Delta-6**

"We're going to die, aren't we?"

Rob didn't answer that question. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he did, and wasn't telling her. Maybe he was past caring.

"Rob…talk to me."

Or maybe he'd just stopped talking altogether. Either way, Jo was left with nothing but the dark and the sound of silence. That was what their cell in the brig was like. No doubt like the one the other hostages had been placed in, but that didn't diminish from its unpleasantness. Or the emptiness in her stomach that stemmed entirely from fear.

And in the midst of this, her husband still remained silent. He just sat there, leaning against the wall, giving no sign that he was even aware of her presence.

In a way, Jo couldn't blame him. Whatever he was doing here, _however _he had got to Venus, it seemed fair to assume that he hadn't expected to be thrown in a cell by a group of murderers. Certainly she hadn't expected to be talking to Doctor Truman one second and find his blood on her bed sheets the next (thankfully not on her jumpsuit though – anything was better than wearing a gown for her). She'd kicked, she'd screamed and even when she was being dragged out of her bed, she'd had that certainty as well. A certainty that seemed to be correct, all things considered, given how her captor had laid out the basics. The aerostat was going to crash, they were going to make off with the "Puppetmaster" and within a few hours, she'd be dead. Either through a bullet, exposure to Venus's atmosphere and/or through the impact of the aerostat.

_Great…_

And yet, Rob still remained silent. He'd given his stooge speech no doubt. Certainly he'd been thrown into the cell with her sometime after he'd done it.

"So…they've got everything they need?" Jo asked suddenly.

Rob remained silent.

"The whole, talk or you die crap?" Jo continued.

Rob remained silent.

"You know, considering how long we've been separated, it would be nice if you had the balls to actually-…"

"Shut up Jo."

Rob spoke.

"Oh, so you _do _speak," the man's wife sneered. "Good. I was beginning to think you'd lost your voice."

"I said shut up."

Rob had spoken. But it was clear to Jo that he wasn't intent on speaking. Sighing, she sat down on the cell's bed. She'd wanted this. She'd waited eight years for this moment, for this reunion. Granted, George had always had a role in said reunion, but even so, reunion via terrorism was not the sort of grand event she'd had in mind.

_George…oh George…_

She'd never see him. He'd never see her. Wouldn't have any memories bar whatever Rob might have kept in the house…if he _did _live in a house.

"Rob…just, tell me about George," Jo said suddenly.

Her husband glanced at her.

"You don't want to talk to me, fine," she said. "But if we're going to die…I just want to know, is he-…"

"He's fine," Rob murmured. "For now."

"What do you mean, _for now_?"

"What, didn't Paige's stooges tell you?" Rob asked. "He's got a proverbial gun to his head."

"What?!"

"Oh yeah," said the man nonchalantly. "He's with a babysitter who's really a PPA agent. Who's really going to kill him if Paige sends a transmission to Earth."

"Oh God…"

"Yep, it's true," Rob murmured. "Still, I've played along, I've played the terrorist, and if George sees my declaration that I thought it was a good thing to send this aerostat crashing into Venus, then at least he'll be alive to watch it."

Something was roaring in Jo's ears. Her stomach, once empty, was being filled by something. Rage? Anger? Some other similar emotion? Either way, it was building up, and the only way it was going to come out was by opening her mouth.

"You're really stupid, you know that?"

Rob glared at her.

"Honestly Rob, what on earth made you think it was a good idea to fly a few million miles with armed felons and bust me out?"

"The idea that it might actually be worth it," he snapped back. "And you can't lecture me on associating with the scum of the earth Jo. Not when you've been hanging out with a mass murderer this past decade."

"Simon?"

"Oh, you're on a first name basis now," Rob snapped. "Wonderful. I'm so _pleased _that you became all warm and cosy with a monster like him."

Rob was getting to his feet. Jo rose to meet him.

"You know, I had to wonder, how someone like you would do with genuine criminals," Rob began. "I spent eight years thinking you were dead, and the better part of a week wondering what state you'd be in."

"Don't talk to me about time," Jo snarled. "You weren't doing the same thing day in, day out for eight years, on a planet that has no proper day-night cycle to begin with!"

"You think it was fun for me, raising George alone?! You think I liked feeding the lie that you were certainly dead!?"

"You what?!"

Rob opened his mouth, closed it, then continued talking.

"It's true," he said softly. "I couldn't find you. No-one could. And maybe…I needed the closure."

"And…does George know?" Jo asked softly. "Did you…tell him?"

"No. I had to leave quickly. Long story…"

The pair fell silent. Jo found herself sitting down on the bed, holding her hands together and staring at them. It was all…so wrong. She was with Rob. They were going to die. George was going to live (hopefully), but would do so believing that his mother had died eight years ago. That he'd have no idea that she'd spent eight years in hell waiting to be with him again. She looked up at Rob. He was looking at his chrono.

_Right. As if the time matters._

"You know, it's funny…" Jo began.

"What is?"

"This." She gestured around the cell in all its grey, drab glory. "This reunion. This moment. I'd imagined…well, something different. Me pestering you with questions. About George. About home. About anything and everything, from movies to politics."

"And now?"

"And now, I don't know what questions to ask. Because after all, you're so concerned with time and all."

"I am concerned," Rob murmured. "Because it's going to happen soon."

"What is?"

Rob remained silent. He turned one way, then the other, his hand to his chin, as if deep in thought.

"Love the Sherlock impression Rob," Jo murmured. "Do I get to be Watson?"

Rob sighed. He stopped. Then he looked at her.

"Questions…" he murmured. "Alright Jo, here's some questions. And if you know what's good for you, you'll answer them."

Jo just stared. Her husband…her bloody _husband _was standing here before her. Interrogating her. No hugs, no kisses, no lame jokes in an attempt to keep the conversation flowing and avoid awkward silences. No…of all the things he'd chosen to do in his last moments, he was interrogating her.

_Wonderful…_

"Simon…" Rob began. "The Puppetmaster. Do you trust him?"

"What?" Jo exclaimed. "You think that matters now?"

"I said, do you trust him?" Rob repeated forcefully. "You've known him for eight years. You've presumably got to know the man in some capacity. So do you trust him?"

"Um…sure," Jo said, having a good guess as to where this conversation was headed. "He's…a good guy."

"A good guy…" Rob mused. "Oh sure. He only contributed to the deaths of-…"

"If you're talking about Italy, he never told me," Jo interrupted forcefully. "Don't ask, don't tell. I only found out a few days ago, when he landed me up here."

"Landed you? What do you mean, _landed _you?"

"Um…" Jo trailed off, not sure how to answer.

_Who are you protecting anyway? If Rob's jealous of him, then you have the opportunity to end it._

"We…er, came to blows," Jo said awkwardly. "One thing led to another and…well, I ended up in the wards, and he ended up in this very cell. That's when he told me the full story."

"What, you came out of the wards and visited him?" Rob asked.

"Well, yes…" Jo admitted. "I mean…I wanted answers. I wanted-…"

"You wanted him. Fan-fucking-tastic."

Jo remained silent. Not so much in shock, but because deep down, Rob was right. Sort of. She'd confessed it to Simon and she was confessing it silently again. The years had changed her. Changed her to the point where even being pummelled at the slightest provocation wasn't enough to stop a horrible, twisted friendship. And after all, how could she defend him now? He'd seemed perfectly willing to help the terrorists. He'd even come to blows with Rob. It was like a side of him she'd never seen before.

_Or maybe it was always there, and I just never saw it._

Jo looked up at Rob. Still pacing, still glancing at his chrono. She wanted…_needed _to say something. Even if he hated her, even if that hate was the last thing on his mind when they died…she owed it to him to try and alleviate some of that hate. And in spite of all that had happened, she owed it to herself as well.

"Rob…" Jo began. "For what it's worth…I was always thinking of you."

"I'm sure."

"I was," she protested. "You and George. Believe it or not, it's still possible to separate friendship from family."

"Oh yeah? Then where's your ring?"

Jo fell silent.

"You know, your ring," Rob continued, tapping the own band on the ring finger of his left hand. "I kept mine. Thought you were dead, you were _legally _dead, but no, I kept it on. It's more than I could say for you. I-…"

"It's here, Rob."

Slowly, Jo took off her ring chain. She held it up, the diamond ring tangling down on the end of it.

"It's here," Jo repeated. "It's not on my finger, and you know why? Because it's hard to wear something like this when working in an exoskeleton. And it's not something I want to advertise to the world."

"To show your availability?"

"To avoid attention. But to also keep it close. Because believe it or not Rob, I had you and George in my mind. And in my heart. And this chain, this…link…" She tapped her chest. "Was always close to it."

Jo stood there, holding the chain. Rob stood before her. At least he did before he slowly made his way over, taking the chain from Jo's hands.

"May I?" he asked.

Jo nodded. Nodded and watched as he held the thing in his two palms. Watched as he slowly removed the ring from the chain, feeling its weight and strangely enough, the chain itself. But the strangeness increased as he took Jo's left hand.

"Rob…"

"If we're going to die…" Rob said slowly. "Then thievery doesn't matter that much."

Jo remained silent. Remained silent as he slid the ring back onto her finger.

"And at the end of the day, you're still my wife."

And Jo still remained silent. Tears and that strange feeling in her stomach aside, no words came out of her mouth.

Of course, as she kissed him, words weren't needed much anyway.

It was as if the last eight years were spilling out of her. That, or at the end of the day, she was a human female with all her biological needs. Jo didn't care. She kissed him. He kissed her. She pressed against him, feeling his body against hers.

"I missed you…" she whispered, managing to get words out for a few seconds. "Missed you so much…"

"Ditto."

Simple words. Not that eloquent. But it was all Rob could get out as their non-verbal language continued.

"But it has to wait."

But it didn't continue. Because suddenly, Rob stopped. Stopped everything. He just stopped the show of affection and made his way to the side of the brig door, the chain still in hand.

"Rob?" Jo asked.

"Jo, I trust you," Rob said, glancing at his chrono. "And because I trust you, I'm willing to extend some of that trust to that scum of a terrorist that Paige has got."

Under normal circumstances, Jo might have pointed out how rich it was for Rob to chastise her for being on a first name basis with Simon whereas he was on a first name basis with the blonde bitch that was leading the group of thugs on this station. But under _these _circumstances however…

"I'll happen soon," Rob murmured. "This chain might help. Or I might be dead in a few seconds."

"Rob, I-…"

"Jo, do you trust me?"

"Um…yes?"

"Good," Rob said, nodding and gesturing her over to his side of the door. "Because right now, I'm willing to work with trust. Trust might keep us alive."

"Rob, you-…"

Jo stopped talking. He just kissed her again.

"And if I _do _die…well, I love you. Just know that."

Jo stood there. Rob stood there. Awkward silence stood with them.

"Um, Rob?"

"Um, yeah…" he said. "You know, maybe I should have taken some time and explained the plan. If it's even going to pass through. I-…"

He shut up. The reason apparently being the sudden lack of light. And the sound of the cell door hissing open.

"What in the-…"

It was the voice of the guard.

"Hold it!"

Jo felt for Rob. He wasn't there. And as red emergency lights came on, she could see that he wasn't there either.

"Get off me!"

He was outside. Cautiously, she stepped out.

"Rob!"

He'd taken the chain. He'd darted out and pulled it around the guard's neck. The man struggled to breathe, to hit him. His body armour useless. His pulse rifle on the floor, and his pistol holstered in his belt.

"Shoot him!" Rob yelled.

Jo stared.

"Shoot him!" Rob exclaimed again. "Shoot him before-…"

Things moved in slow motion. The guard elbowed Rob. Rob recoiled. The guard punched him and kicked him to the floor. He reached for his pistol.

"No!"

Jo ran forward. The pistol was drawn. Its safety was apparently on, because instead of shooting her, the guard hit her on the forehead with its butt. She fell down, her vision swimming.

_No…no…_

She looked up, seeing the guard getting ready to fire.

"Not on my watch!"

Jo screamed and dived for cover. The guard didn't fire. But someone was. She glanced back, seeing Rob with the pulse rifle. Shooting him. Shooting his armour. His other body parts. Shooting him so much that the nano-fibres couldn't' adapt. And after all, there was no protection to being shot in the forehead.

The guard fell down. Dead.

Jo scrambled over, taking the guard's pistol. Not out of tactical necessity, but because she'd nearly died, and survival instinct didn't want to risk anything. Meanwhile, instinct of another kind made her look back at Rob, cradling the rifle in his hands. He tossed it aside.

"I…I…"

Jo crawled over and hugged him.

"I…I killed someone," he whispered. "I mean…I knew I'd have to…but…"

Jo hugged him tighter. She understood. Rob had operated UAVs. Had been a naval grunt. He wasn't some kind of hotshot soldier or marine. He'd never killed. And at the least…she could offer him support. So could the other hostages coming out of the other cell, staring at the scene.

"Enough."

Rob got to his feet. So did Jo.

"Rifle's out of rounds," he murmured, kicking it aside. "And I have no idea how to operate it beyond pulling the trigger."

"Rob, you-…"

"I'm fine," he lied, still visibly shaken. So shaken that Jo decided to hold onto the pistol.

"Rob, you said you knew you'd have to kill him," Jo said, gesturing to the guard. "What did you mean?"

"I was thinking the same thing," murmured the tech. The nurse and barman nodded in agreement.

"Simon's plan," Rob murmured. "Getting us out of the cells. Now we need to get off the aerostat."

Jo went to say something but stopped. Stopped as the aerostat suddenly buckled. Started falling, given how she found herself pressed against the wall.

"And get off it quickly."


	12. Renegade

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 11: Renegade**

**December 13, 2125**

**Venus, Aerostat Delta-6**

Simon Edelman knew he was going to die on this aerostat.

It was funny, how for the last eight years he was sure he was going to die on the surface of Venus itself. And if he was still alive by the time the aerostat crashed into the surface, maybe he would indeed die on the surface of the second planet from the sun. But in the end, he was going to die. If not from the impact, possibly from the heat. Possibly from exposure. Or possibly from the effect of a bullet having torn through his side.

"Shit," he murmured, stumbling through the corridors of the plummeting aerostat. "Shit…shit…"

The cursing wasn't helping his body, but it was helping his mind.

All in all, Simon was surprised his plan had worked. It had been sudden, being yanked out of his cell by armed thugs and told that they were here for him, but that the Jo's husband had provided them an opportunity to get away with it. It had been spur of the moment, acting as if he would gladly help them, getting Rob to attack him. He had no idea that he'd seen him eight years ago but it had apparently paid off, as he'd whispered his orders to await an escape window. Whether he'd got it was another matter, but he supposed he'd find out soon.

Or not. The bullet wound was making it hard to move, and the falling aerostat wasn't helping. It wasn't like in an elevator – he wasn't being pressed too hard against the floor or ceiling, as both were descending at the same rate. But he had to be careful to keep his footing otherwise he might be sent flying.

Grimacing, he glanced back at the corridor, hearing the shouts of the agents. At the least, they'd be facing the same problem.

_Except…they…weren't…shot…_

Their leader, the one called Paige apparently, had trusted him. Or at least trusted him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. He'd upload his program, setting the aerostat to crash in ten minutes, giving them enough time to head for the shuttle. And on the surface, Simon had done that. What Paige hadn't noticed however, was that he'd set the timer for a few seconds, giving him the time to run out of the room. Catching a bullet in the side of course, but still getting a head start before the plummet effect took in. And as he'd cut the main power supply also, with any luck, the cell doors would have opened as well. Whether Rob had managed to take out the guard was another matter, but if he was in a position to have seen his capture in Africa, then hopefully-…

"Simon!"

…well, Jo was alive at least.

Grimacing, the former terrorist stumbled across the reception area, seeing Jo before him. And Rob. And the other three hostages, none of whom were thankfully wearing a red shirt. Granted, _Star Trek _had been anachronistic since the 2060s at least but-…

"Move it!" Rob yelled.

_Sure, sure, hurry the bleeding guy…_Simon thought, heading to the reception desk. Rob and co. had taken cover on the other side of it. Grasping hold of it, Simon slid around. It was tempting to vault over, but the wound in his side plus the effects of inertia would have rendered that a bad idea.

"Simon…" Jo said softly, seeing his wound. "Oh…oh God…"

"We're on Venus honey, you've got the wrong religion," he murmured. He glanced up at Rob, ignoring Jo and the nurse applying pressure to the wound. "See you got out alright."

"Just fine," he said, glancing at Jo, before meeting Simon's gaze. "Of course, we're still plummeting. We're still going to crash. And unless you know how to fly a shuttle-…"

Rob stopped short as gunfire whizzed over them. Back in the far corridor, Simon heard calls…Paige's probably, to cease fire. In response, Rob fired a few blind shots in their general direction.

"This isn't good," the nurse murmured…Saliendra, given her name tag. "You're losing too much blood."

"Um, hello?" the barman said. "Impact. Gunfire. We don't need to worry about this guy."

Jo went to say something but Simon held out his hand. Partly to stop her. Partly to get the only firearm that Rob had been able to procure.

"There's…a way…" he said. "Take out the reactor. Blow it."

"You mad?" the tech asked. "It'll destroy the aerostat!"

"Kid, we're…going down, anyway," Simon said, his words getting harder and harder to say. "We're going to hit the habitation unit. We need…an explosion. Something to divert its course. And to ensure it breaks up even faster."

As if on cue, more gunfire came their way. And also on cue was the sound of buckling metal. As expected. The aerostat was designed to float with minimal thrust in Venus's dense atmosphere. Not to operate under pressures and heat strong enough to warrant platinum suits on the surface.

"Fine," Rob said. "Let's say we take out the reactor. What about the shuttle?"

"You piloted UAVs once. A shuttle can't be that different."

"Piloting a drone isn't the same as-…"

"Just…get it into space. Remember, your transmission was sent to Earth at the speed of light. Even if you can't…fly…the thing…" Simon trailed off.

"He's right," the tech said. "The Consortium will send a ship out."

"And what then?" Jo asked. "Send us back to Venus."

"They'll want us on Earth," Rob murmured. He took Jo's hand. "They'll want me, as well."

"Sucks, doesn't it?' Simon asked. "Being a wanted man."

Rob went to say something but stopped short as another burst of gunfire came their way. Gunfire followed by a few words.

"We've got you cornered Edelman!" yelled Paige. "I don't know what your plan is, but you're not flying out without us! It's over."

"Like…hell," Simon said, the wound in his side feeling like…something. It was hard to feel. He turned to Rob. "Give me the gun."

"What?" Rob asked. "Are you-…"

"It's me they want. It's me they'll chase. I'll…get…to…the reactor." He gasped for breath. "I'll overload it. I'll blow it. I'll send every one of these bastards to hell. At the least…I can cover you while you head for the airlock."

"Only a few minutes left Edelman!" Paige yelled. "It's all you've got left! One way or the other!"

The terrorist laughed, looking at Jo. "She's right, you know." He turned back to Rob. "So give me the gun."

Jo took Simon's right hand, holding it carefully. Rob took the man's left hand, putting the pistol in it. Its LED showed ten rounds remaining. More than enough.

"This doesn't absolve you," Rob said, still keeping his hands on the gun. "None of it."

"No, it…doesn't," the man said. "A few thousand people died because of me, and thanks to my presence, a few dozen lost their lives on this station. But hey…Venus is hell. I've been living in it for eight years. I'm ready to achieve permanent residency status."

Smirking for a second but quickly reversing it, Rob let the pistol go. Smiling back, Simon turned to Jo.

"I'd say something fanciful," he said. "But you know me…I'm the silent type."

Silently, Jo looked at him. Silently, she kissed him. Once, on the forehead. Silently, Rob looked on. As did everyone else.

"Alright Edelman, that's it!"

"You've…got…a good wife," Simon said to Rob. "Shame your girlfriend…isn't the same."

And with that, he got up, firing a trio of rounds at the agents in the CIC corridor doorway area. Gritting his teeth, he pushed off the reception desk, soaring through the air to the corridor that led to the reactor.

"You want me?!" he yelled at the agents, hoping the others had the sense to keep their heads down. "Come and get me!"

The words hurt. Physically. Just as his gymnastics had. But it worked. Pulse rifles ready, the agents moved in, firing controlled bursts at their target to keep his head down. With a sad smile, Simon headed down the corridor.

They wouldn't have any trouble following him, he reflected.

At the least, they could follow the trail of blood.


	13. Redemption

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 12: Redemption**

**December 13, 2125**

**Venus, Aerostat Delta-6**

Paige was alone.

She was used to this. She'd operated alone before. With any luck, when the PPA had secured its oil rights in the Pacific, she'd be given an opportunity to work alone again. But right now, she was alone. She was alone because she'd sent her fellow agents to check on Sa'id and the prisoners he was guarding and to see what they could do at CIC to delay the free-fall, all with the intent on rendezvousing back at the reception area in a few minutes. That was how long she had to get Edelman back in her custody and to blast off in the shuttle. And as she approached the engine room, a trail of blood spots leading to the door, it seemed a few minutes was all she would need.

_Perfect._

Slowly, the agent approached the door. Partly due to the effects of the free fall, partly due to general caution. Simon had a gun. She didn't know how, and while he hadn't hit anyone with it in the reception area, she wasn't going to take any chances. So when she opened the door, she was in cover. And sure enough, a single gunshot hit the wall behind her.

"Nice shot Edelman," she called out over the hum of the engine. "But don't bring a pistol to a rifle fight."

There was no answer. Cautiously, she peaked into the room, seeing nothing but its conduits, its rectangular generator (its hum getting increasingly loud for some reason) and…nothing else. It was a square room, the generator being in its centre and providing ample cover.

"Come on Edelman, it's over. You're wounded. You want to live, you stop the free-fall and get on the bloody shuttle."

"Shuttle's taken."

Paige raised an eyebrow. How could the shuttle be taken? Either way, she made her way into the room, taking note of the spots of blood on the ground, still visible in the red gloom of the emergency lighting.

"Edelman, you-…"

The aerostat buckled, causing Paige to temporarily lose her balance. She regained it, raising her rifle.

Only to see Edelman standing before her, pointing a gun at her.

"I'd…call this…a Mexican standoff…" Edelman said slowly. "But…you need…three guns…for that…"

"And Mexico doesn't really exist anymore," Paige murmured. "Nor will you if you don't drop the gun."

"Bite me."

Paige faced down the terrorist, pondering her course of action. She couldn't afford to waste time. On the other hand, she didn't want to rush things. Edelman had a gun, it was loaded, it was pointed at her, and her body armour didn't cover every part of her body. Overall-…"

"Team leader, come in, over."

Paige activated her suit radio. "What is it?"

"Sa'id ma'am. He's dead. And the prisoners are gone."

"What?! How could…oh no."

The aerostat buckled. Or rather shook. Or roared. Either way, it wasn't a side-effect of the increased pressure it was being exposed to.

"The shuttle…" Paige whispered. She stared at Edelman. "They…they…"

"Flew the shuttle," he said. "Robbie must have pulled it off."

And with that, he fired.

"Son of a-…!"

Paige stumbled back as the bullet hit her armour. No damage was done, but it gave Edelman all the time he needed to stumble to cover. With a roar, she let loose with her rifle, rounds tearing through everything but human flesh.

"You've killed us!" she yelled. "You've killed yourself!"

"Actually…the bullet…did that," she heard him say. "I'm just speeding things up."

Adrenalin pumping, eyes bulging, her brow thick with sweat, Paige moved forward, keeping low, moving around the room's generator. Another shot was fired, but it missed. She rounded the corner.

Edelman swang at her.

It was easy enough to disarm him. One arm blocked his swing, the other yanked his pistol away and tossed it aside. And before he could react, he kneed him in the stomach, getting him to kneel over. He didn't get back up, as she grabbed his shirt and pointed her rifle at him.

"You're…holding…it…wrong…"

"Can it you little shit," she hissed. "You're coming with me."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to fix this. You're going to stop the free-fall. You're going to get us back into the atmosphere."

"And then…what? Your shuttle's gone."

Paige hit him, knocking the scum over. This was all wrong. Everything had gone so right. And then, this man, with a simple hit of a key, had messed everything up.

"We're…going…to die…" he said. "Just…shot me…now…better than…losing blood…"

Paige gripped her rifle, ignoring the blood she'd got on her hands from his wound. She was torn. Part of her wanted to shoot this bastard for the sake of it. The other was consumed by a need to survive. And a fear that she wouldn't.

"You gone soft, Edelman?" Paige asked loudly, speaking over the generator and the buckling of the aerostat. "Did you plan to let the stooges escape? Did you plan to join them?"

Edelman gasped for breath. And right on cue, Paige heard her team over the radio. Exclaiming that they couldn't reverse his program. Shouting that the shuttle was gone. Requesting orders.

She shut the radio off in response.

"You want to save more lives?" Paige asked. "Then do it. We're heading for the habitation unit remember?"

"True…" the bastard whispered. "But not for long."

"Huh?"

Huh. That was it. That was her response. And also her response to the hum of the generator. Or the roar as it had become.

"Little…explosion…from overload," Edelman whispered, closing his eyes. "My last piece of redemption. My way of saving the lives on the people below. And a final…fuck you."

His chest stopped moving. Paige started running, swearing, heading for the exit. The generator roared.

And like after the roar of a dragon, fire came out.

Paige didn't know what was happening. At first she was running. Screaming. Heading for the door.

Then she was falling. Soaring through a hole. Through fire. Into fire…everything was on fire. She fell…down. Fell through the air. Looked up as her entire body was incinerated and pulverized.

The last thing she saw was the aerostat collapsing into pieces and heading on a different trajectory.


	14. Reunion

**StarFront: Transit of Venus**

**Chapter 13: Reunion**

**December 25, 2125**

**ESS _Maun_**

This was officially the worst Christmas ever. Of all time.

It was funny, really. Many kids would have killed for the chance to be in space. And certainly when he'd arrived on the _Maun_, he'd been thrilled. Thrilled with seeing the Earth from above. Thrilled with being able to fly in zero-gravity. But over the last two weeks, George had got sick of it. He was sick of having to use the bathroom in zero-g. He was sick of having to eat plastic food. He was sick of having to spend an hour each day on a treadmill, surrounded by men and women much older than himself and making it clear that they weren't interested in conversation. And now, sitting in a longue area, strapped into a chair and reading from an e-book reader, his boredom was not only as high as the moon. It was over it.

"How's the book?" Karin asked, swinging over to the vending machine.

"Fine," George mused. "Fine…"

It wasn't. She probably knew it. But either way, his guardian swung her credit chip, a hole opened up from the vending machine's bottom, and a claw stuck out plastic satchel of coke. Ultra-diet vanilla flavour.

It hadn't always been like this, the nine-year old reflected. One moment he'd been minding his business at home, wondering when his dad was coming back, why the baby-sitter was so…non babysitterish, and what could have been so important that his father hadn't even told him the full details of where he was going. The next thing he knew, what looked like policemen were barging in, knocking the babysitter to the ground (who'd drawn a gun out of nowhere before getting it knocked out of his hands) and yelling that he was under arrest. It was cool, it was terrifying and in the middle of it all, a woman who gave the name of Karin had come up to him. Told him that he'd have to come with her. That there'd been some kind of incident that involved his father and for now, it was best if he remained with the FEU.

George had accepted. Partly because he felt like he had no choice. And when Karin told him he'd be staying on an FEU space station, he'd let the thrill get to him. True, the take-off felt like hell and he'd even passed out, but then here he was. In space. Ready to enjoy it, savour it, and then realize how unpleasant the whole thing really was.

"Want some?"

George nodded as his guardian leant forward, squeezing some of the coke out in a bubble for him to swallow. It was fun the first few times, but George was sick of it. If he wanted coke, he'd drink it out of a bottle. And if he wanted a soft-drink of choice, he'd have a pepsi, thank you very much.

"Thanks," George murmured, watching Karin drift back over. She nodded in response.

In the past, "thanks" might have been accompanied by "so, you going to tell me what's going on?" He'd since given up asking. Right now, the only source of information he was getting was from the silent flatscreen mounted on the wall above. Set to the BBC, which was focussing on what was going on in the Pacific. Some PPA terrorist action that had its rivals joining forces in the UN to condemn it. It was what a newscaster called a FUBAR…and while George didn't know what that meant, he was able to appreciate that while Asia and the Americas were willing to shout down their rival, their Pacific grievances seemed to have been forgotten. Now if only his dad had been here to appreciate it with him. If only-…

**Thump.**

George swayed in his chair. The belt kept him strapped in, but he dropped his e-reader and consequently, it went sailing through the air. Still, he ignored it, and turned to Karin.

"What was that?"

She gave him the hush sign, instead listening to her ear radio. After a few seconds, she turned to face him.

"Ship's arrived George," she said, unbuckling her belt and drifting towards the ladder that led to the deck above. "Wait here."

"Huh? What ship? What-…"

She ignored him, quickly moving to the ladder and climbing up.

"Thanks…"

Rubbing his eyes, George returned his gaze to the flatscreen, showing a reporter in some kind of tropical setting in the Pacific, reporting on fleets remaining on standby, postponing armed conflict.

_Lucky bum. He gets a summer Christmas. Meanwhile, I'm enjoying Christmas in _space_._

It was a sign of how bad things were that he considered this to be a bad thing. But he was sick of it. Where was his father? Why was he in space? Why was he being kept in the dark? Why was he still sitting here instead of going after his e-reader?

_Ah, screw it._

George unbuckled his belt with one hand while keeping his other on the chair's spine. He'd been told to "wait here," though Karin had never specified whether "here" applied to just the chair or the room. Either way, he didn't care. He drifted up. Got ready to push. Saw how the e-reader was drifting near the ladder. Started pushing off…

"George, what are you doing?!"

And grabbed the chair again as Karin came back down.

"I told you to stay here," she said, drifting over and fastening his seatbelt. As if he was just a child.

"Yeah, you did," George murmured. "You didn't say I couldn't get out of my seat though."

The woman let out a smirk. "True, that. Well, don't worry George. Everything's been sorted out. You'll be going home soon. If not today, you'll at least be home on Boxing Day."

George remained silent. That was all well and good, but where was his father? And never mind that no presents had been bought or at least, left under the non-existent tree.

"As I said, your father was involved with an incident," Karin continued. "I never told you it was on Venus."

"On…Venus?" he asked.

"Yep. And…well, long story, and he's been absolved of whatever crimes he might have committed-…"

_Crimes?_

"And been given clearance to share his experiences. The FEU's neutral. However the PPA looks, it's of no concern to us."

George's head was spinning, and not because of any zero-g effects. Venus? Crimes? The PPA? His father in the middle of it all? He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Karin beat him to it.

"And here he comes now."

How she knew that, George didn't know – maybe her ears were attuned to space vibrations or something. The "how" quickly faded from the boy's mind however, as he was faced with the "who." Who not being a doctor, but his father, crawling down the ladder.

"Dad!"

"Hey kiddo," his father said, drifting towards him. "Good to see you."

"Um…" George trailed off as his father easily drifted to the seat beside him, his movements as fluid as Karin's had been over the last two weeks. How had he got so good? Why was he here? What on Earth, or above Earth, was going on?

"You okay George? They been treating you all right?"

"Yeah…sure."

They hadn't. The food sucked. The drink sucked. This was the worst Christmas ever. Sure, seeing his dad was nice, but why'd he left in the first place?

"So…" George said eventually, his words addressed to both his father and Karin and equal measure. "Can we leave today? I mean, it's Christmas and…well, not expecting any gifts or anything, but-…"

"Actually George, I do have something for you."

The kid looked up at his father. Was there a gift shop on Venus or something?

"Or rather, someone."

_What in the…_

George was confused. His e-reader was still floating around the ladder. Maybe the person coming down it could bring it to him. Maybe-…

"George."

Hanging down through the hole, grasping the rungs, she looked at him.

"George," she said again. "Do you remember me?"

George stared at her. Dark hair of moderate length. Brown eyes like his own. A visage and physique that was quite trim, athletic even.

"I…I don't…"

She looked at him. George looked back. At her face. She seemed…familiar. Like someone he'd seen. Almost like pictures of a woman he'd seen at home. A woman that just happened to be…

_No…no…she…_

He stared. At her. At her ring. At her again.

"Mum?"

She nodded, tears coming to her eyes. "You've grown," she said softly.

George stared. His mother…her visage. Not just from the pictures, but from something older. Memories, like a dream. Or the cusp of a dream, as the tide retreated from the sand of a beach. But the tide was coming back. The sand was feeling it.

"Mum!"

And in this case, the sand itself moved to meet the tide on its own terms.

George shot forward with more force than was needed, all thoughts of the e-reader gone. Letting go of the ladder, his mother caught him in time. Caught and hugged him, as if to never let go. And he hugged her back.

"I…I've been waiting for this," his mother said. "George…you have no idea…to see you again…all grown up…"

She hugged him tighter. He welcomed it. And as his father drifted over, as he put his hand on his shoulder, all thoughts of potential awkwardness in front of Karin were forgotten.

"Merry Christmas George," his father said. "Hope the wait was worth it."

George remained silent. His mind was racing. Yet in the midst of it all, there was one thought that shone out the most, eclipsing the glow of the sun and all the stars.

This was the best Christmas ever.

* * *

_A/N_

_Well, that's that done. Admittedly a very tenuous link to _StarFront_, but in an effort to keep all my stories on the one site, it's kind of how I work when it comes to original fiction._

_For what it's worth, I don't have any other_ StarFront _stories on my 'to write' list at this time of writing. I'm currently working on a _Prometheus _story titled _The New Black Gold_._


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